Tangled Strings
by BeshterAngelus
Summary: Pete Tyler finally has everything he ever wanted; a second chance with Jackie, a daughter named Rose, and a future that seems secure. Yet even as he thinks he's got it all straightened out, the threads of his life soon begin to tangle as having it all soon proves to be much more complicated than he'd ever imagined. A sequel to "Strings Attached".
1. Chapter 1

**_Twenty-four years ago…._**

It wasn't that Pete Tyler hated Vitex. It wasn't as if it wasn't an interesting product, a health tonic marketed to those out there who were conscious about calories and what they were putting into their bodies. It wasn't as if it couldn't sell under the right circumstances. It wasn't even a bad formula, as far as formulas went, he supposed. It just tasted like horse piss.

And that was why Pete was staring at a giant stack of bottles piled at one end of the living room in his tiny flat in the Powell Estates. The one he shared with his wife, Jackie**,** the very wife who was sitting across from him, curled on the couch, shuffling through a pile of bill. Her chequebook was at hand, and she cast occasional evil glares at him when she wasn't flicking an eye towards the events on the telly.

"Rents due," she muttered, eyes gliding up to him from the bills on her lap. "Just like every month."

"Yeah," he murmured, frowning at his own calculations on his yellow notepad, the kind with the wide spaces, big enough to doodle on. He had been jotting down figures and ideas for weeks now on Vitex, on how much it would cost to gain enough start up capital to just snag the recipe from the owner and set-up his own stake. Maybe make it better. Lord knows he barely drunk it now, and he sold the stuff. Maybe fruit flavors, or with some electrolytes in it, for the athletes, or sugar free for those watching their figures.

"You know we've been behind the last six months," Jackie continued, something cold and resentful gliding under her tired, casual tone. "Council's been pretty lenient up till now."

"We always work it out," Pete shot back without so much as looking up from his numbers. "Say we'll have it in a few days."

"I got to pay for the electricity in a few days."

"So, we use the grocery money for the electricity."

"I'm using that for part of the rent," she replied. On the telly a reporter gravely discussed the unusual nature of the massive stock market drop that day, catching Pete's attention, much more than the pointed glare he knew was being directed at his head.

"A bunch of rich toffs lose their shirts playing with Monopoly money, you perk up, but I talk about how to keep a roof over our heads, you can't be bothered?"

"It's bad that, Jacks, the economy taking a hit like that. Means hard times scrounging up folk who want to invest."

"Invest in what? Japanese cars and computer games?" She sniffed, pulling herself off the couch enough to grab the remote off their battered, paper covered coffee table and snap the television off right under Pete's nose.

"_Oi_, I was watching that!"

"I know! It's why I done it," she snapped, throwing the remote right at his face. He ducked, tablet flying as she stalked past his chair, the piece of plastic sliding down the back and into the cushions.

"What the bloody hell, woman, could have broken my nose!"

"What, afraid one of your girlfriends won't want you no more," was the bitingly airy reply from the kitchen. Scowling, he rounded on her, only to find her pointedly ignoring him as she puttered around the kettle.

"I'm working, Jackie, trying to get your rent money together. How many times I got to tell you that?"

"Maybe when you get me the rent money I will start believing you," she shot back with the practice ease of one who'd had this argument with him before. Many times, as a matter of fact. So many that even as she said it, her shoulders slumped and her head hung wearily as she leaned it against the cabinet. "Just...do what you can, Pete. We can't keep doing this. I can't keep doing this."

She looked utterly and completely defeated. And Pete found he hated that.

"Jackie," he drew her name out in a long, pained sigh as he rounded into the kitchen, to where she stood with the kettle, pretending to busy herself with a teapot, hiding the towel she was using to dab at her eyes. "I'll get it. We always make it through, right? Trust me!"

"Yeah," she sniffed, but without much conviction, even as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, pressing himself against her shoulders. It was always the same, every month, it had been for their near year of living there. Jackie would panic about the bills, Pete would reassure her it would be well, and they'd show up three days late with rent, and have to face the humiliation of disapproving glares from the woman at the management office. Every month, this same routine would begin again. And every month it was getting harder and harder to put a good face on it. Pete had a gut feeling if something didn't break in their way soon, something else would, and it would likely be their marriage.

"Come on, how about some tea, yeah?" He kissed the top of her head lightly, felt it move as she nodded, and smiled. "Put the bills away for now, just talk about other things. "How was your day?"

"All right," she shrugged as he pulled away, reaching around her to grab for a box of biscuits in the cupboard above her. "Got in at a salon in town. Nothing fancy, mind, but enough to give me a bit of work to cover things."

Again with money. He bit back a loud sigh as he opened the package and fished out a chocolate sandwich. "So you think you will like it there?"

"Maybe. Seems all right enough." He watched her busy herself with tea making, measuring leaves and waiting for the kettle to boil. "Otherwise caught up with Mo, saw Mum and Dad. They said we're to come for dinner on Sunday."

Pete was glad her back was turned so she couldn't see his eyes roll to the ceiling. "Sure, fine. Sounds lovely." He hoped it sounded civil. Even if it didn't, Jackie didn't appear to be in the mood to argue it.

"Sarah and I tried to catch up with Evie. You remember her?"

Pete really had no head for most of Jackie's friends. She seemed to have a pack of them around, "the chav pack" as they seemed to laughingly refer to themselves. Most were girlfriends or wives of his mates, a few were ones that had gravitated in and made themselves at home, mostly to harass Pete as far as he could tell. Whenever he turned up and the brood of them sat around, clucking about, they'd all go silent when he wandered past, shooting him expressions that varied from disapproval to knowing, none of it added up to good. He tended to avoid them at all cost.

"Which one is she, then," he faked, hoping to get Jackie to jog his memory without admitting he couldn't tell the difference between them.

"She's the pixie like blonde who shacked up with Marty from the bowling team."

He think he did have a vague recollection of a girl meeting that description. About twenty, dishwater blonde, hair up in a perpetual ponytail, tended to wear nothing but jeans and oversized t-shirts, with a cigarette always out of her thin lips. "I didn't know her and Marty were a thing."

"Yeah, started months ago. How come you didn't notice?"

Pete avoided Jackie's dubious frown with a shrug. "Honestly, men don't talk about those sorts of things."

"What? You not comparing notes on your latest conquests?"

He ignored the subtle jab at his own suspected infidelity. "Marty don't seem to care one way or the other who knows about her."

"He better start caring soon." Brittle disapproval hissed like the kettle as the water came to a boil.

"And why is that?" He watched her jaw work tensely as she poured water over the leaves with all the air of anger that she usually reserved primarily for him. She waited till she put the lid back on before she answered him.

"Evie's got herself knocked up." By the sound of it, Pete couldn't tell who Jackie was more annoyed with, Evie or her partner. "She admitted it to me and Sarah today. Has been off the pill for months but never told him. And then never used rubbers, mind, so that's what happens."

Pete only blinked mildly. "Yeah, I'm aware how that works, thanks. Evie pregnant? And she's sure it's Marty's?"

He knew the minute the words left his lips he'd regret it, but he couldn't stop them any more than he could stop the flashing, blue storm that was Jackie's expression the minute he did. Her mouth, already turned up in disapproval, now curled into a full-blown sneer directed at him. "Isn't that typical, she gets pregnant and you have to assume your buddy didn't do the deed?"

"I didn't mean..."

"Typical, you all stick together, you lot, all useless."

"Jacks," he hissed, though it did no good. She merely whipped around again, snagging mugs and slamming them on the counter. "Okay, that was badly worded, I didn't mean it. I just meant...look, you and me, we both know Marty. All right bloke, but can't find his own arse with a roadmap and two hands. Not exactly the sort of lad I'd suggest to any woman to father her kids."

This seemed to mollify Jackie somewhat. "Yeah, I guess." She splashed hot, fragrant liquid into each cup, before spooning a bit of sugar into one of their old, brown chipped mugs and handing it to him without a glance. "Neither of them has enough sense to get themselves together, and now they will throw a baby into all of this. I told her she was stupid for it, Sarah and I both did, and she only cried and said she was going to keep it."

"Well, I suppose there's that." Pete sipped at his steaming mug thoughtfully. Hot, strong, and sweet, it was just how he liked it. No one made a cuppa like Jackie, not even his late mum, God rest her soul, not that he'd tell her that. For all of Jackie's harping, there was a lot that made him happy too, and her tea was one of them.

"It's strange," he considered, pulling from his mug again, thinking on the tall, lanky, wild-haired Marty who'd been a drummer in the band Pete had been in until he had an accident falling down a flight of stairs and broke his arm. "Marty's always been so...gormless."

"You mean strange he's having a kid?" Jackie took up her own mug, with two sugars and a splash of milk, and leaned against the other counter. "Yeah. Knowing his luck he'll leave the little mite somewhere like the bowling ball rack."

"Or the cigarette shop in the courtyard," Pete snickered, imagining the Middle Eastern fellow who ran it staring at some random baby left on the counter there. "What about Evie? She got enough sense to change a baby from time-to-time?"

"Seriously, her first response was to wail she was going to get fat and she couldn't keep smoking cigs no more." Jackie snorted, grabbing a biscuit from the package Pete had snagged earlier. "She has no clue what she's in for. Not just the getting fat and laying of the smoking and drinking, but then there's the labor, and then when you get it here, there's poopy nappies, and crying all night, and no sleep, and screaming. She's going to be a wreck in a year."

Pete's experience with babies admittedly was limited. He'd been an only child, and he'd had only a few cousins to speak of, and none babies. Mostly it was his friends kids, and they seemed all right. "I don't know. I've not seen it ever be so bad."

"It's awful." Jackie seemed to ignore him as she crunched on a chocolate sandwich, shuddering as she did. "Spent a summer as a kid helping in a nursery. Screaming, crying, wetting, everything. And every one of the girls I knew who got knocked up never looked the same again. Before, they all cared about themselves and did their hair and wore clean clothes. The minute they had kids they wore nothing but pajamas and no make up to be seen. Right nightmares, they were, and they didn't see nothing wrong with it."

"Raising kids isn't easy, Jacks. Can't blame them if they focus on other things."

She shrugged, finishing her biscuit. "I guess." She didn't sound convinced.

Pete only in that moment realized that up till then he had no idea his own wife's ideas about children and families. Admittedly, he had always assumed that Jackie would be just like every other woman, want to settle down and have a family. He'd actually looked forward to it. It had never occurred to him when he had proposed to her with his cheap little ring that she might not want the same thing he did.

"So, about kids," he stumbled, awkwardly, hesitantly eyeing her over the rim of his mug. "I mean...you and me, we're married. Not like Marty and Evie. And we've never talked about..."

He trailed off as a worry line creased in between Jackie's dark brows. "You saying that you want to have kids?"

"Well, I mean, I'd like to, one day." He busied himself with staring at the mug in hand, watching the way the kitchen light filtered through the amber liquid. "I mean, I always wanted maybe a little girl to spoil rotten...or a son, someone I could teach to play footie."

"You're rubbish at football," Jackie shot back softly, but fondly. "You've wanted kids?"

"Yeah," he admitted finally looking up at her. "I mean, I guess I just assumed you would too."

Her expression tightened. "Yeah, I guess we didn't ever discuss that much, did we?"

"No," he admitted, chuckling. "We were too busy doing other things."

That at least drew a faint blush across her cheeks. "I guess we should have. I at least should have. I mean, not every woman even likes kids."

"And you?"

"Don't know," she replied, though he felt she was simply just avoiding giving him a far more honest answer. "I mean, I suppose I might, someday."

"Someday," he pressed, knowing it for the stalling tactic it was. "Someday we'll be too old to have kids."

"You mean you'll be too old. You've got twelve years on me, old man."

He wasn't about to be baited by her teasing. "Jacks, you know what I mean."

"I do." She set her mug aside to cross her arms across her faded t-shirt. "But let me ask you this? You are talking about kids, and there I am, sitting there, trying to figure out how to put a roof over our heads. We can't pay rent, Pete, let alone take care of a baby. And they take money, a lot of it, for nappies and food and clothes. And what if we lost the place? What then? We can't just live out of car with a baby. Can't bunk up with a friend, or even my parents. Wouldn't be right foisting a newborn on to them."

"You act as if we'll be in this spot forever," he muttered, staring sourily at his quickly cooling tea. "One day, Jacks, you'll see, I'll make a good living for us, a proper one. I can take care of you and we can have a baby, and they'll be taken care of too. If I could do that, you'll consider, right?"

A variety of thoughts seemed to play themselves out in Jackie's expression, before she decided to settle on something soppy, like the look one gives a particularly cute puppy who's done something clumsy but been adorable at it. "You always were a dreamer, weren't you?"

Pete could only smile sadly at her.

"It's why I married you, I guess," she sighed, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek before patting it softly. "I'm going to shower and go to bed. Will you clean up the tea things?"

"Sure," he replied, forcing himself to nod reassuringly as she shuffled off. As the door to the bath closed, he felt himself sag against the counter. Pete Tyler knew an argument he wasn't going to win. And he had a feeling this was one of those Jackie would dance around for years with no resolution.

Still, he considered, as he poured the rest of his tea down the drain, a son would be nice...or maybe a daughter.


	2. Chapter 2

"Will this technology work?"

"It's so simple and yet so complex!"

"We have that technology shared by the Altairians. I bet we could make this completely fossil fuel independent."

"Completely," came a chorus of agreeing voices, nodding and humming to themselves appreciatively.

All of it made Peter Tyler smile widely as he quietly regarded them all. They were the cream of the crop, Torchwood's finest minds in aerospace development, each hand selected for this venture by Pete not only for their research capabilities but because above all they were loyal. And they were willing to tell little white lies to keep Torchwood's greatest secret just that, a secret. To all the rest of the world this new, jet engine technology will be a product of years of research coming out of Torchwood's think tank, part of their public initiative as the germinating place for new ideas and products. In reality, it was born out of the years of collected data surrounding Torchwood's real mission, to connect with alien races as they came into contact with the Earth and enter into treaty if possible, protect the Earth if they must, but to always keep the presence of their alien visitors and their doings secret. And this was just one of a long string of products that Torchwood had cobbled together out of borrowed technology and human ingenuity. Except, it wasn't exactly technology from any alien or even this universe.

Yet one of many secrets Torchwood and its scientists kept from the public at large.

"So, if I were to present this to a discrete group of Vitex investors to get the word out there about this project and maybe get some funding for it, you all could, in theory, produce a product?"

The group of wide-eyed engineers all looked at him and blinked.

"Excellent," Pete replied, clapping his hands together in satisfaction. "So, the plan is this. We have fake documentation that states that jet engine technology was theorized by several professors over the decades here in the British Republic, as well as America, Germany, Japan, the usual suspects. However, for various reasons, funding, doubts regarding its viability, it was never really considered viable until you lot began playing with it."

The conglomeration of women and men all nodded, knowing already where this was going. They'd all worked at Torchwood long enough to understand how the game was played. Besides, Pete could tell that more than a few of them liked this idea of being attached to the invention of this new, world changing technology, a nice line on their resume should they ever choose to leave Torchwood. It was the least he could do, since they could never speak about what they truly did while they were there.

Pete continued, wandering around the long, oval table where they had gathered, scattered with notes, wads of scrap paper, and an elegant, holographic image of a prototype engine. "So, we will credit you for the invention of this technology, since we can't really tell anyone we borrowed it from another version of Earth. In exchange, I need a working prototype to show investors. How long do you think it will take?"

The lead on the project, one of Torchwood's senior engineers, Alicia Ninaji, glanced amongst her cohorts, before offering Pete a game shrug. "Perhaps eight to ten months? That's just in order get a prototype that works."

"If you do it in six, I'll pay you double," Pete tossed out, earning bemused and askance looks as he beamed brightly. "No one said progress was easy."

"If it can get me across the Atlantic in less than twelve hours, I'll take it," one young, bearded engineer at the end with a clear, Midwestern American accent thumped his hand on the table.

"That's the spirit! Now, Dr. Ninaji, I've assigned you as team lead engineer and key liaison for this endeavor. Think you can meet and greet with a few stuff shirt, rich types who want to know why they are parting with their hard earned money?"

"Are champagne and caviar involved?" One dark eyebrow quirked on her dusky face, belying the smile that curved up her lips.

"Yes, and maybe a few parties with the type of people you usually only see in the tabloids."

"I know you, you're tabloid fodder enough," she teased, nodding her dark head. "Sure, I'm happy to wine and dine with them. So what is the end goal here?"

Pete pressed his lips together thoughtfully. Like most ventures Pete had done in his life, he had a brilliant end goal in mind, but the execution he'd always left to others more capable than himself. This, however, he had to shepherd very carefully. "My goal is that at the end of the day, we will have created a means of travel that is less harmful to the environment, that is faster than what we have presently, safer, and most importantly, cost efficient so that travel isn't only the purview of the wealthy. And frankly if it gets another one of those damned dirigibles out of the sky, I'll be pleased."

Even as he said it, outside of the long window of the Torchwood conference room, high above London, a fat, silvery behemoth drifted past, one of the many legacies of John Lumic left in the world. While zeppelin's hadn't been his invention, they'd been used for decades before, since the early years of the 20th century, they were popularized by him. It was his development of the high tensile, super light steel that went into their construction, born of information he'd been given by Torchwood of course, that had made zeppelin's easier to construct and popular amongst those who could afford them. And yet, for all that the zeppelin's were relatively harmless in the grand scheme of things, even beneficial to the world, it was his Cybermen that were his lasting legacy. The memory of the horror and pain of that long ago night, when so many died innocently, their brains stuffed inside those bodies made of the same steel, still stung as a painful wound, and reminded Pete just how innovation could get drastically out of hand.

"Above all," he murmured, watching the zeppelin as it made it's way down the Thames. "I want this project to be a boon to humanity. I don't want it turned into a weapon. Is that clear?"

He turned to regard the now very somber room. "You all remember John Lumic. I'm sure some of you lost loved ones that night. I nearly did, for years I thought I had. I don't want that to happen again. I know that I can't expect our work to stay in house and out of others hands for long, but I want it made so well it will be damn well nigh impossible to copy effectively. I don't want anyone using it to drop bombs or shoot things. No defense industry contracts. And what's more, I want it safe enough that people are falling out of the sky. Make it as safe as a automobile, safer even."

"There's only so much any of us can do towards that," Dr. Ninaji warned practically.

"I know. Just try." He smiled tightly as outside the door the sudden appearance of his assistant, Amanda, caught his eye. "Ahh, yes, have to get to the other job, Vitex. Got some party to go to where I plan to drop rumors on what we are doing here! See what I can turn up! Remember, I'm depending on all of you!"

The enthusiasm in the room was energizing as he made his quick exit, leaving them in Dr. Ninaji's capable hands. He strolled to the glass door, where Amanda stood, tablet in hand, tapping her watch pointedly.

"I know, I know, I'm running late." Pete wasn't surprised. He couldn't remember a time in the last twenty years he'd ever been on time.

"Jackie's called twice wondering if you'll be home in time for the party tonight."

"I bet she's going spare," he huffed, smiling to himself. It was Jackie's big night. She'd been fretting on it for a week. "Tell her I should be home in an hour."

"I doubt that," Amanda replied promptly, not bothering to glance up from the tablet her manicured nail was tapping against.

"Doubt that? Why? I'm done with my meeting. Went a bit long, but if I hop in the car now…"

"Miles is waiting in your office."

Miles? Damn! "Can't it wait?"

"He wouldn't be waiting in your office if it could," she murmured, still busying herself with whatever was on her tablet. "Besides, I tried telling him you were busy and his response was that you could hold off twenty minutes from getting your nails done."

Pete glowered. "You could have bothered keeping him out of my office."

That at least got his assistants attention. She turned brilliant green eyes up at him in disbelief. "Sir, this is Miles Conner. You do realize he could make my life miserable if I did that."

"Miles wouldn't do that?" Pete tried to at least sound convincing when he uttered his obvious lie.

"He knows I'm deathly afraid of snakes. No one knows that about me."

"I know that about you...now." Pete let his steps drag him back to his office.

"He wouldn't be above putting one in my car, I know it."

"Miles wouldn't do anything to damage you...much."

Amanda didn't look convinced.

"Right, I'll just go talk with him now," Pete muttered irritably, wondering how it was that his Director of Field Operations could just have free reign of the place. Not five years ago, Miles Conner was Pete's personal assistant, much as Amanda was now. He was efficient, acerbic, and brutally regimental regarding Pete's schedule in ways that frankly terrified many. Few knew Miles was assigned to Pete because of his actual role at Torchwood, that of a field operative who worked primarily with unknown and unnamed threats to Earth. Former SIS, he had the background of a spy and a past that Pete was well aware of and loathe to bring up. But it was his level head in the face of crises, coupled with his brutal honesty and unerring desire to do what was right that had Pete elevating Miles to the role of Field Director once Pete took over at Torchwood. Beyond being one of the few people Pete felt he could trust in such a delicate role, he considered Miles perhaps the closest thing he had, personally, to a best friend. It was Miles who had tried to keep Pete grounded at the worst time of his life, and who helped him out at perhaps the strangest moment. He didn't think he could thank the man enough.

However, at that moment, seeing his Field Director kicked back in one of his office's leather chairs, with a glass of fine alcohol in his hand, Pete could perhaps cheerfully killed him, both for interrupting his day, and for helping himself to Pete's cherished Lagavulin.

"Want a bowl of pretzels with that? Maybe a few biscuits?" Pete sniffed as he entered his office, glaring at the crystal decanter sitting in front of Mile's pleasantly smiling face.

"Don't like pretzels. And biscuits would taste awful with something like this!" The other man pulled slowly from a neat finger of the warm brown liquid, eyes closed in appreciation behind his dark-framed glasses. "Like drinking liquid smoke, that."

"Yeah, I know, it's why I buy it. Didn't realize anyone could waltz in and help themselves." Pete threw himself into his desk chair, eyeing the tall, blonde, impeccably dressed

man across from him. Miles rarely ever looked not put together, his lavender tie was well knotted and perfect with the charcoal gray suit he wore, a half-step up from Mile's usual uniform of geek chic slim trousers and waistcoats. "You are dressed up today."

"Had to be. Had a bit of a diplomatic crises on my hands, or did you get that memo?"

Pete had, he'd just forgotten. "What was it again?" He only just did manage to avoid the disapproval shot at him by the other man.

Miles set down the matching crystal glass, folding his hands in his lap. "It you bothered to put your new toys away for half a moment and read the memos I sent you, you'd know that the Shadow Proclamation is reaching out to us again."

Pete vaguely knew of the organization of sentient beings from across the universe who acted as one part government, one part police force. Since the inception of Torchwood, they had reached out to Earth in the hopes of cultivating a relationship with the planet and its people, with the desire of fostering humanity along enough that they too could reach out into the stars and participate in the larger, universal community. Pete had long suspected it was primarily because the Shadow Proclamation had tired of babysitting a planet that many other races thought backwards and primitive and ripe to take over just to get the raw materials off it.

"What the bloody hell do they want?" Pete pulled open his lower drawer to scrounge in his desk for another crystal glass, reaching for the decanter as he did so.

"The same old song and dance. The Earth needs to grow up, take it's place in the universe as a member planet, start letting its people in on the secret that 'we are not alone'."

"'Cause that will go over well," Pete huffed, frowning as he poured a larger amount of the scotch than perhaps he should. "Everyone's just now starting to get over the shock and trauma of John Lumic, now we want to plop down aliens into the mix?"

"It's not like people don't already suspect about them," Miles pointed out with the sort of diplomacy that made him much better at deal with the alien races than Pete normally was. "Torchwoods been leaking all sorts of information on it for a century already."

"And most of that is taken with a large grain of salt, which was also the goal. Every time someone gets up and states they are abducted, people roll their eyes and ask if they saw their little green man at the bottom of a beer glass." To demonstrate, Pete tipped his own tumbler back. The fiery, smoky liquid burned pleasantly across his tongue and down his throat.

"What if we maybe up the game a bit?"

Pete opened his eyes from the moment of scotch zen he had been enjoying. "You agree with the Shadow Proclamation?"

"I'm just saying, they do have a point."

Pete stared at his friend across the desk. Miles was known to be many things, one of which was extremely cautious. Which was why his response was so surprising. "Why the change of heart?"

"Who says it's a change?"

Pete's only response was to eye him over his glass. Mile's blue eyes met his own evenly.

"I'm simply saying that the Shadow Proclamation has a point. Torchwood was founded by Queen Victoria over a hundred years ago because she was attacked by an alien life form, one no one but a few people even suspected existed. How different would that situation have been had there been relationship between humanity and the larger universe?"

"Honestly, do you think any of us was ready for it a century ago?"

"No, but we are ready for it now. Things have changed, Torchwood has fostered that change, in part for this very reason. We were founded under the auspices of protecting Britain and the Earth from alien incursions and to prevent the misuse of any technology or artifacts against humanity. And we've done that. Rather than attacking and destroying every alien in sight, which our counterparts in another universe tried to do, we've built relationships with other races, have worked with the Shadow Proclamation, and have spent decades building a global society that may not work well, but at least works in some capacity. Now is as good a time as any to go for this."

"They've gotten to you, haven't they?" Pete growled, taking another large pull of scotch. Miles, as usual, was unperturbed.

"You know I'm right, Pete." How often did Miles ever actually use his first name? "How much easier would even everything three months ago have been if we'd been able to at least approach others regarding assistance."

"And yet, we managed all right by ourselves without outside intervention, didn't we?"

"Not really," Miles pointed out. "We wouldn't have succeeded if it weren't for the Doctor."

Pete hated it when Miles was right.

"Well, there is no Doctor or Time Lords in this universe, so where does that leave us?"

"Vulnerable," Miles countered archly. "Listen, humanity is going to find out about it eventually. We won't be able to keep it secret forever. We might as well control how the information gets out and do it in a way that won't leave us with riots in the streets. Torchwood has kept too many secrets in its past, and that nearly destroyed all of us."

There was truth in Miles' words, even if Pete hated to admit it. "If we do this, we have to be strategic. We have to plan this well, or there really will be riots in the streets. Work with the Shadow Proclamation to see what bloody suggestions their lot has."

"And who would you want working on this then?"

"You have been working on this. Why not you?"

Miles snorted. "Because after a while I have the strong urge to kill people. They talk to me now because I'm the point person for all alien contact."

"And you know the Shadow Proclamation best. And you get on better with them than you admit."

Miles at least had the grace not to dispute that. "Truth is, I'm not interested in being an ambassador and never have been. We need someone who can play the field with other races and not be afraid to do it."

"And whois this magical person you have in mind?"

"No one on this planet," Miles muttered. "No one in this universe even."

Pete didn't have to ask him who he meant.

"All that aside," Pete continued. "Who on this planet would you suggest?"

"Why not you?"

Whatever he had expected, that hadn't been it. Pete spluttered as scotch caught in this throat, burning as he choked, eyes stinging. "Where the bloody hell did you get that idea," he finally managed to croak as he thumped a fist against his chest.

"Rose," Miles replied cheekily, cheerfully finishing off his own scotch and placing the glass neatly on the desk. "Why not? You are handy enough with a board of trustees. And you've got the entire world to drink a product that is essentially nothing more than syrup and fizz."

"Yeah, and they are all human," he groused, clearing his chest roughly. "Rose? Why would she suggest that?"

"Have to ask her, she's your daughter."

His daughter. In all technicalities she was, but he hadn't raised her. He was still just getting to know her. Understanding what went on through her head at times was still a learning process for Pete.

"She's right, you know. You'd be good."

"I'm not ambassador or politician. I'm a kid from the estates who got lucky because Torchwood needed someone to spy on Lumic. That's what I am."

"One whose saved the universe twice over, from what I understand." Miles rose, straightening his suit jacket as he did so. "Consider it, sir. We can't dither around with this forever. We've survived too many close calls, it's time for Torchwood to evolve. We're the only organization on the planet that's free from any government or politics, and about the only one that can speak freely for all of humanity. Our mandate is to protect the Earth, and if we don't reach out to the Shadow Proclamation, then someone else will reach out for us first. And it may not end well."

Pete regarded his subordinate gravely. Miles rarely spoke with such gravitas. "I'll consider it. But I have a lot on my plate now, what with this jet engine project, and getting Jackie and Rose settled. Till then, can you still run point with the Shadow Proclamation. Tell them I'm thinking on how to approach this."

"Will do," Miles nodded perfunctorily, pausing thoughtfully. "I've been considering putting together a small team of field operations staff to deal with them exclusively. Those who've had extensive experience dealing with the races we have treaties with, and who have built relationships with visiting off-worlders."

"Good idea," Pete agreed.

"I was thinking I might ask Simmonds, Mickey, and Rose to be on it."

That gave Pete pause. "Those three? Why?"

Miles knew that Pete wasn't really asking so much because of either Jake or Mickey. "Jake has the potential to be a good leader here. He needs the experience. Mickey and Rose have the experience already, and they are less likely to balk at anything others might perceive as strange."

"And by Mickey and Rose, you really just me Rose?"

"Mickey isn't quite as gormless as he looks, but yeah. Rose is a natural at this, Pete, you and I both know it."

That he well knew. The first time he'd met her, pretending to be a server at his wife's birthday party all those years ago, he'd found himself confessing all to her. He didn't know her, and yet she flashed her wide, inviting smile and he found himself connecting to her as a kindred spirit.

He wondered, briefly, if that's what the Doctor felt when he'd met her.

"Just don't let her do anything stupid, her mother would never let me hear the end of it."

"I can't guarantee that, sir, she's related to you."

Pete ignored the other man's comment and frowned down at the large, platinum watch wrapped around his wrist, cursing quietly. "Jackie is at home waiting for me. We have the Berkley's dinner tonight, with the board and other investors. I'm going to be bringing the idea of the jet engine with me, so I've got to be perfect."

"Caviar with the croquet set?" Mile's perfectly straight expression belied the sardonic twinkle in his eye.

"Those caviar eaters may be funding a project that will keep you in nice, bespoke suits for the rest of your life, Miles, be kind." Pete finished his scotch, gathering both glasses to set aside for cleaning before rising to follow his field director out of the office. "You'd like Andy alright. Bit of a blowhard, but honest. And I need more people like that in my life."

"Clearly, then, I'm not enough," this other man sniffed as he proceeded Pete towards the elevator, pressing the button to go down.

"Ah, Miles, don't say that! Who else will nag me when Jackie isn't around?"

His only response was to grimace as the elevator doors opened without so much as a swooshing sound. Within seconds, the doors opened again onto the parking area, where Pete's driver waited with his Lexus.

"Hold the fort down while I'm gone," Pete joked as he made for his waiting car, but Mile's sudden call turned him back.

"I forgot to tell you, sir, Dr. Singh noticed a small anomaly in the rift between the worlds.

"Anamoly?" Despite Miles' nonchalance, Pete found himself frowning in worry. He didn't understand the physics behind the break between the walls that stood in between his world and the one that Rose and Jackie had left behind. But he did know that as firm was one would like to think they were, they could just as easily be broken. It had taken the Doctor the last time to repair things. They didn't have that luxury again.

"Nothing major, just a blip of energy. Singh wonders if it isn't leftover energy seeping through as things seal up. He didn't appear to be worried, but I have him monitoring it."

Pete felt his expression as well as his body physically relax. "See, didn't even have to tell you. What would I do without you?"

"I've been asking that for years," Miles retorted as Pete snickered and got into the car.


	3. Chapter 3

"Do you think they will believe that I am me?"

In the darkness of the car's cabin, Pete turned quizzically to Jackie's earnest fear as she twisted her fingers in her lap was very real. His hand found hers across the span of the seat. "No one knows the difference, love. You are Jackie Tyler, whatever past you may have."

"Yeah, but these are people who know from Vitex, people who knew me. I don't know any of them!"

"It's all right, they all think you had a brain injury, so if you don't remember, no one will think twice about it."

"That makes me feel better," she snorted, clearly not relieved. "I've been a mess all day about this, got the collywobbles. You chef's cooking isn't helping!"

Her accusation only earned an eye roll from Pete, an argument that was now several weeks old between them."Pierre's been cooking for me for years now. You used to like his stuff well enough."

"Yeah, well I've not felt right all week, and the thing different is his cooking," she muttered stubbornly.

"Could be just nerves and not Pierre."

Her only response was to sniff, making Pete chuckle. He'd been the one to suggest his longtime personal chef, much to Jackie's private annoyance, and it hadn't helped that both Rose and Mickey had raved over his Shepherd's Pie, a dish Jackie had considered one of her best. Her injured pride had complained loudly about it ever since, but he knew that wasn't her problem at the moment. This was a big event, huge. Not just for him, but for her. This would be the first time that this Jackie Tyler, a woman who hadn't existed in this world until three months ago, would be stepping out onto the public stage and into the role left behind by a dead woman. And she wasn't so sure she could do it.

"So tell me again, whose house is it?"

"Andrew Berkeley, Chairman of the Board of Trustees of Vitex and one of the richest men in Britain, outside of me. He keep the investors for my main company in line, and he is as financially and politically savvy as they come. Also...he hates zeppelins."

"Why?" That perked Jackie's interest.

"Something to do with a near wreck in California once, he's not liked them since. He's eager to hop onto our new jet technology. And I trust him." That much Pete was sure of. Andy had been the first major investor Torchwood had lined up for Vitex and had supported Pete through thick and thin for twenty-five years, even through Lumic. "I think he is the one person I can trust in this to do right by what I want."

Jackie's face softened, neatly manicured nails reaching up to graze his face. "You are brilliant, you know. Can't imagine what's it's been like, not having jets to get around in. Fancy computers here, and it takes you forever to get around the world."

"Not brilliant, really, just have a good eye for a business venture. My own, at least. First time I will be building up a company from the ground up without someone else pulling the strings for me."

In truth, Pete had never done it. Vitex had been born and nurtured as a Torchwood creation, a front for Pete's real work, that as corporate spy. He'd contributed some, yes, to the direction of the company, but mostly as their primary spokesperson. His winning smile and casual charm had conned millions into drinking what was essentially a soft drink thinking it was healthy. It had provided him a life of luxury and comfort, yes, but it hadn't been his baby. This time, this creation, would be Pete's chance to shepherd a product into production all on his own, even if the product was an invention of another world modified through Torchwood. This was provided, of course, he could get the funding for it.

"You'll be fine," Jackie assured him with all the confidence she clearly wasn't feeling herself. "You've been there before, done this. Until three months ago I was living in a dingy flat in the estates. Now I'm kitted out for a fancy party where everyone expects me to be posh."

She was indeed 'kitted out'. Pete glanced appreciatively at the silvery gray satin cocktail dress, off the shoulder and sophisticated in its simpleness. It had surprised him that she'd chosen this one out of all the possible dresses she could, and he thought she looked stunning. "No one is going to care if you don't speak right or remember their names."

He drew one finger across the bare skin at her collarbone, causing her to shiver slightly, eyes cutting upwards in mild exasperation. "And I know I think you look stunning in this dress and can't wait to get it off you later."

"You're a dirty lech, Pete Tyler, and you know it," she snapped, but playfully, a flushing creeping across her perfectly made up cheek.

"Not what you said last night," he shot back impishly.

"Don't go trying to distract me with sex...least not till we are in the car home, right?"

He only laughed at her as the car pulled up slowly into the long drive leading up to the Berkeley estate. Much like Pete had, the Berkeleys had a large manor just outside of London, in the areas that had been considered "the country" two centuries before. Jackie's eyes widened as she took in the white plaster and marble, going considerably pale as her blue eyes went impossibly wide.

"This is where they live? It's a castle!"

"Jackie, you live in a house like this too, remember?"

"Not this big, at least." She swallowed hard as the car came to a stop. The driver parked and got out, opening Jackie's door, offering his hand to her as she stepped out gingerly in silvery strap heels.

"You going to be all right?" Pete wasn't sure he liked the look of her drawn expression as he took her arm, trying to hug it tight for reassurance.

"I don't know if this is going to work."

"It will be fine!"

"You say that now, but what if they figure it out?"

"Jackie, the truth is far too mad for anyone to possibly figure out."

"You've seen the tabs, they think I'm an imposter made up to look like your dead wife!"

"You believe the rubbish they print in those rags?"

"Not about me, I don't," she admitted as the climbed the long flight of marble steps towards the front foyer of Fenchurch, the Berkeley's estate. The long, glass windows were ablaze with light, and from inside he could hear jazz humming along from what he guessed had once been the ballroom. Laughter and chatter buzzed as he greeted the butler, who gladly ushered them inside.

"Mr. and Mrs. Tyler," the tall, stenorous man called into the sitting room, but he needn't have bothered, because before the words had left his lips a loud, booming shout called "Pete, old boy, made it finally. Everyone's been dying to see you!"

Pete couldn't help the wide smile that rose unbidden as he met Andrew Berkeley's handshake and embrace. A tall bear of a man, Andy had a personality nearly as big as his rather prodigious gut, good living making him both jovial and soft. Still, behind his booming laugh and fondness for good wine and better cigars was a keen businessman's brain. He had shepherded more than a few companies, including Pete's, into greatness. Which was why when Pete considered who he would possibly want to lead the way in his latest business venture, he could only imagine his old friend.

"Andy, glad to see you've already cracked open the scotch."

"It's going to be a long night, need to start lubricating it early to get those pocketbooks open," Andy replied, reaching for a wine glass from off a passing wait staff member's tray and depositing it right in Pete's hand before turning a broad smile towards Jackie. "Jacqueline! So many years, it's so good to see you!"

"It's...uh...good to see you too," she stuttered, pulling a shy smile, clutching Pete's arm so hard he could feel his other hand going numb. If Andy noticed the discomfort, he tacitly ignored it, grabbing another glass from a different staff member and holding it out to her with a wink.

"Same goes for you, lass, the night will be made better with a bit of a tipple." He guffawed loudly as Jackie blushingly accepted, sipping dutifully if nothing else to give her something to do.

"Andrew, what did the doctor say about you and alcohol?" The haughty tones belied the true warmth of the woman speaking as she slid up to glower at her husband. Tall and thin, her carefully arranged golden hair and white silk spoke of elegance and sophistication, though the expression on her face promised she was not a woman to be trifled with.

After thirty years of marriage, Pete would have thought Andy would have caught on to that. "Harry, it's my first glass of the night," he protested, mildly.

"Of scotch, yes," she sniffed, attempting to snag it in well manicured nails, but failing as he down the liquid and handed her the empty glass with a smirk of triumph.

"Can't deny a man his scotch," he managed when he could speak again.

"I can for the rest of the night," she replied, passing her now empty quarry on a tray floating past in the hands of one of the hired servers before gracing Pete and Jackie with one of her brilliant smiles. "Peter, darling, so amazing to see you." With her usual grace and charm, Harriet Berkeley leaned in to brush her lips across his cheek, before turning to the slightly befuddled Jackie. "It's so good to see you again! You like as not don't remember me."

"Ummm...no," Jackie have laughed, flushing as Harry waved that away.

"Harriet Berkeley, Andrew's wife. My lord, darling, if I'd been through half of what you had, I'd not remember much either. I'm just so glad to have you back! Pete's not been the same man since he lost you."

"Isn't that the truth," Pete murmured, earning a gentle squeeze on his fingers where Jackie had yet to let go of his hand.

"A good thing for the women in our lives, eh, Tyler? Where would we be without them?" For all of her scolding, there was honest affection on Andy's face as he regarded his wife.

Harry's response was to sniff and pat her husband's prodigious tummy fondly with a be-ringed hand. "You'd likely have died of a heart attack ages ago. I have to keep you alive for the money."

"Of course," he smiled benevolently, picking up the same hand to press a brief kiss on it. Theirs was an odd relationship. Pete had always thought so. Harry was the daughter of an old, aristocratic family who still kept the title, though the monarchy was long gone. Andy was the son of an accountant and a homemaker, as middle class as one could be, but who worked his way through the ranks of the London School of Economics to become one of the most brilliant investment minds in Britain. She was posh elegance and refinement, he was more bourgeois in his tastes, but they made a successful marriage out of it, and an effective one too. Andy's brusqueness and hard nosed business tactics were often smoothed by Harry's more diplomatic style.

"You have a lovely place," Jackie interjected, eagerly trying to add something to the conversation with people whose names and faces she should have known, but didn't. Harry glowed at the praise.

"Thank you! Took years to fix the place up, it was my family's ancestral home, but we moved out of it shortly after the Great War. Too much upkeep on the pile, but Andy was eager to get out of the city."

"Harry wanted a DIY project," Andy snorted, surreptitiously snagging a glass of wine from another server.

"Don't listen to him, he constantly makes fun of my projects," she dismissed, taking Jackie's arm. "Let's reacquaint ourselves, shall we, I can show you around the place, reintroduce you to people. Everyone's been dying to see you again, and I know it will be overwhelming with all these faces and names, but I can be here to help out."

Before Jackie could even send Pete a panic-stricken look, Harry was whisking her off out of the sitting room and into the ballroom to the side, where people laughed and danced, networking and entertaining themselves across the polished parquet floor. He watched their blonde heads disappear into the mix, half-worried enough to follow after them.

"She'll be fine, you know. Harry will see after her." Andy gulped at his wine as if half-expecting his wife to appear out of nowhere and snatch it. "She looks amazing for all she's been through."

"Yeah," he smiled softly. There was a kernel of truth in the fib they told the world. Jackie had been through a lot. And she did indeed look amazing. "She's adjusting slowly. Names and faces she doesn't remember so well. Almost like starting over with a whole new woman."

"Perhaps it's a blessing, then, eh? Things hadn't been going so well before."

"No, they hadn't." Pete had told very few of his separation and divorce. Andy he'd confided in, and it was on his recommendation that he and his wife had decided to hold the news to themselves, at least till they could announce it privately without the hoopla of the press.

"And does she remember any of that?"

"No," Pete replied truthfully. "But we've spoken on it. It's not like I kept her in the dark."

"Maybe in the end those things ended up not mattering as much as they did at the time."

"Maybe," Pete murmured uncomfortably, sipping at his own glass and trying to ignore the niggling guilt he felt at both lying to Andy and usurping his late-wife's memory.

"So, a daughter? Rose is it? Only you would have that sort of madness?" Andy chuckled, slapping Pete on the back. "Tell me how she's doing in all this?"

"It's been mad, no less for her than for me. But she's coming along." The lie Miles had spun was that Rose had been raised by family. Flimsy at best, but a better than the truth in Pete's eyes. "She just got a job, works in foreign relations of a sort."

"Good for her, lets her get grounded. Seemed like a nice enough girl in that interview."

"Rose is fantastic," Pete smiled with paternal pride by all rights he shouldn't feel, but did. "You'll have to meet her sometime."

"Well, when you let the rest of the world see your wife and daughter, I will. You've had them holed up there in that mansion, not even the press can get in."

"Keeping up on the tabs then, Andy?" Pete smirked at the other man who only hunched his broad shoulders into a shrug and looked thoroughly unperturbed.

"Only way I get any sort of news, anyway, is reading between the lines of that tosh. You think the _Times _or BBC is really reporting anything important?" He sniffed, surveying the room of well-dressed, well-to-do, all of whom were either connected to Vitex or who wished to be. All of them had deep pockets, Pete knew, as he picked out faces here and there he knew well, mostly the Vitex regulars. But some were new, even to him.

"Quite the turn out for your party, Andy."

"You're party is more like it, Pete. Word has gotten out about your new toy, and interest is high."

"How high," Pete wondered, feeling akin to a writer or an artist just testing out his masterpiece.

"Well, any time you mention the idea of getting across the ocean in half the time of a zeppelin, people would be interested. People tried before, failed in the past, and anything remotely reasonable lately was quashed by Lumic so as not to compete with his zeppelin business."

"If I can get this right, Andy, it will change the world."

"And well I know it! High-speed travel? Hell, it could launch people out into space finally, not just satellites to whirl around. Frankly, I'd be happy if those damned blimps were blocking my office window any more."

"That makes two of us," Pete chuckled, toasting to that. He'd never been a fan of the mode of transportation. Worse, they remained a painful reminder of that horrible night. "Who are my primary targets?"

Andy harrumphed, his jowly face squishing into thoughtfulness as he nodded towards one corner of the room. "Good old Sig Segerstrom is ready to put a big, fat load of money on development if you can prove to him that the technology is safe."

"I think that can be arranged," Pete replied confidently, eyeing the tall, lean man with the hawk like nose and impossibly blue gaze, who seemed to wear a perpetual scowl on his face, despite the stunning blonde on his arm who Pete knew was his wife. "Who else?"

"Hikaru Ichijyo of course is eager to speak with you." Andy gestured with his empty glass towards the handsome, suave man dancing on the floor with a woman old enough not to be wearing the daring gown she was sporting. "Of course all you have to mention is anything flying and speed and he'd write you a blank check tomorrow."

Pete had worked with the popular and eccentric Japanese investor before, specifically on the bullet trains that Japan perfected and Europe envied. "I think this would be right up his alley."

"And of course, there's the usual Vitex lot. Evelyn is lurking about, you know."

"Hunting for a new husband?"

"When is she not," Andy snorted, glowering at the middle-aged, raven haired beauty on the other side of the floor. "Pain in my arse and thorn in my side, but I bet if Harry kicked it tomorrow she'd be jumping over her corpse to come after me." For good measure, Andy patted his large tummy and snickered.

"Doesn't seem to need you, though," Pete supplied, seeing the young, handsome fellow on her arm. He didn't need introduction, everyone, especially Pete, knew Jeremy Peck, the _wunderkind _from America. His story was as well as Pete's own rags-to-riches tale. A smart young man, he'd been at Stanford University in America when he'd come up with the technology for tablet computers. He was scoffed at soundly by my of his fellow engineering students, no less because at the time Lumic's earpods were the future of the communications and technology industry. Lumic's disgrace had been Peck's open window, however, and even as the burning ruins of Lumic's empire still lay smouldering the young man rolled out his first company, Tessera, a venture that could have just as easily failed as succeeded. But the usability of the interface, coupled with the sleek design and it's synchronous ability to connect to the network Lumic left behind, meant that it caught on widely. In the five years since, tablets had become the industry standard as earrpods had, and now were used as phones, personal devices, even large screens in classrooms and offices. Peck had made millions before he was even twenty-five. At the height of his success, he had shocked the entire industry by selling up his shares, taking his load of money, and using it to invest into other ventures, usually as the majority stockholder. He had a touch of something about him, that was certain, as not a one of his companies had failed yet.

The question was, what was he doing on Evelyn Harris' arm?

"Evie is a vulture, you know, has been picking off young, handsome things since her husband off and died and left her with all that money and his shares of Vitex." Andy wiry eyebrows screwed together in disdain. Thomas Harris, Evelyn's late husband and her elder by thirty years, had been the third largest investor in the company after Pete and Andy, and had barked the loudest and complained the longest with each and every new direction the company took. He blessedly died, but rather than leaving his investments to trust or even the open market, he'd given them to his pretty, younger wife who had taken his place on the board as the resident pot-stirrer. Not as pompous as Thomas, Evelyn was instead made up for it by being hard and demanding, preferring her own brand of strong arm, back room politics to open negotiation. That she was there that evenings somewhat surprised Pete, as Evelyn was no fan of his. More so was the fact that Jeremy Peck of all people was with her.

"Still, he's young enough to be her son," Pete murmured, knowing what his wife would have said about it. There had been no love lost there between Evelyn and his first Jackie, they'd hated each other on sight. He wondered briefly what this new Jackie would say, when the sinking feeling of instant epiphany hit. The Jackie Tyler with him tonight had never met Evelyn, didn't know about her, her reputation, or the fact that she hated her with a vengeance.

Grabbing Andy's large elbow tightly, he turned desperately on the spot, searching the crowd for a flash of blonde and silvery gray silk. "Jacks! I've got to find her."

"Hold up, old man," Andy yanked his jacket sleeve out of Pete's grasp, clearly confused at the sudden panic. "She's fine, she's with Harry."

"She doesn't know about Evelyn."

"Course she doesn't, which is a blessing if you ask me. Wish I could forget her."

"You don't think Evelyn won't eviscerate her if given the chance?"

"Relax, Peter, Harry is there. Remember, she handles Evie, the woman thinks she's her best friend. Jackie will be fine."

Pete wasn't quite as sure. "I'd rather give her a heads up…"

"Peter, you're here for your jet engine. Your wife will be fine." Andy's hand was heavy as it fell tightly on Pete's shoulder. "Pull yourself together, fellow, get out there and start schmoozing. People are here to give you money! Put on the Pete Tyler megawatt charm! Make them want to invest in your flying death trap!"

Pete knew Andy was right. He was here for his project, for his new company, and for all the opportunity that would afford him. Jackie was here to have a chance at starting a new and different life for herself. To do that, she had to charm and make friends as herself, without Pete holding her hand or hovering over her. Jackie had spent twenty years without him there holding her hand. She would be fine!

"Right," he breathed, his heart still thundering unnaturally in his ears as he exhaled loudly and slapped on his "trust me" smile. "Let me chat up Hikaru first, I know him and this is all right up his alley."

"Good man," Andy slapped his back firmly, pushing Pete in the direction of the man on the dance floor.

Two hours later, Pete's smile felt permanently frozen on his face, belying the raging headache now starting to form behind his eyes. He'd now spoken to no less than twenty potential investors, all of whom played the old cagey game of trying to find out as much information as they could as Pete attempted to only give them what they needed to close the sale. It was a careful dance, one Pete had spent thirty years perfecting, and while he was amazingly talented at it at this point, it was exhausting at times.

"You look as if you could sleep for a month!" Jackie's cool fingertips reached from behind to press against his temples, and he nearly groaned at the relief of them.

"If I have to press any more flesh tonight, I may chuck the whole thing and become a hermit."

"Someplace warm, I hope, and only if you take me with you."

"Rose can manage fine without us. We could do it, you know."

She snickered as she came around to smile up at him. "Harry is nice enough. Very posh, but nice."

"Glad you got along with her." Pete hadn't truly feared it. Harry was all that was inviting in a world which could be very exclusionary. "Enjoy yourself?"

"Yeah," she shrugged in that same, non-committal way Rose had when it usually was only a fair-to-middling sort of day. "It was so strange, all these people knowing my name and face, expecting me to know them, and I just didn't."

"I know, love," he sighed, pulling her closer to press a kiss gingerly against her done up hair. "You feeling less nervous, at least?"

"Only so," she admitted. She looked tired, and Pete wondered if there were a delicate way of slipping off early. It had been a long night for them both. They'd not even seen each other till this minute, he'd shaken the hand of every man and woman with money to burn he could get his hands on. They hadn't even had a chance to take the opportunity provided by the fabulous jazz group in the corner and share a dance.

"Nice music," he murmured nonchalantly to her as he swayed ever so slightly to it.

"Yeah," she hummed, as if just noticing it.

"Could dance to it, you know. Get one turn around the floor before heading home?"

He had expected her to smile in delight at this, but instead she frowned up at him in mild horror. "I don't dance, Pete! Least ways, not that kind of dancing."

"What sort of dancing is that? I just stand there, hold your hand in mine, we sway in a circle, what's so hard about that?"

"Pete," Jackie protested feebly, but he ignored her as he grabbed her hand in his and drug her out into the very middle, at the center of the swaying, stepping couples. Though she looked flustered, he kept her hand in his, holding it up to one side, his other hand firmly at her waist.

"Come on, dance with me," he whispered lowly, pulling her close as her free hand wrapped itself nervously around his shoulder. Pete wasn't a great dancer himself, but he had rhythm enough from his old band days, and he kept time with his feet as Jackie swayed, at first awkwardly, but relaxing as he pressed her closer, humming badly to the music, earning a soft huff of laughter.

"You are getting romantic in your old age."

"Old age, eh?" He snorted. "I'm only…"

He paused considering his age, frowning down at her triumphant smirk.

"Yeah, thought so," she teased, reaching up to smooth the stubble of what remained of his ginger hair. "I still find you sexy, though."

"Well, if I'm old, at least there's that."

Her laughter was cut short as a lazy drawl sounded just over his shoulder, one that made him cringe just by it's sheer proximity. "Pete Tyler, I wondered when you would crawl out of your hole and grace us with your presence."

He could only sigh in the face of Jackie's bewilderment as he gently let her go to turn and face Evelyn Harris as she teetered on the dance floor near him, grasping onto the young Mr. Peck as if he were a lifeline to her youth. Not that Pete could blame her, he was that sort of geeky handsome the girls all seemed to like these days, all casual coolness, unshaven stubble, and wire-rim glasses. The kind of fellow that made Pete acutely aware of just exactly how old he was getting.

"Hi Evelyn," Pete force the smile he didn't feel onto his face. "And how are things with you of late?" He flickered a pointed glance at Peck, who at least had the grace to blush as he disentangled himself from Evelyn's grasp.

"Jeremy, here? Why, he's young enough to be my son!" She laughed as if the thought was absurd while still looking exactly like the cat who had made off with the cream. "Oh, but I forgot, you two haven't been introduced. Peter, this is Jeremy Peck, he was so dying to meet you. Jeremy, this is…"

"Peter Tyler, of course. I know all about you!" The young man held out his hand eagerly to Pete, all smiles and charm, with the flat American accent that made him sound like he was straight off the telly. "Dude, you are like my hero! It's an honor to meet you."

"Well...thank you!" That hadn't been expected. For a talent as bright as Peck, he'd rather expected him to be a pompous, arrogant prat. "It's nice to meet you too. Your tablet, that revolutionized everything."

"Still not a name brand like Vitex," he insisted, pushing his glasses up his nose self-consciously. "I mean, I grew up with you on TV and billboards. You were the type of businessman everyone dreamed of being, coming out of nowhere to take over the world."

Ignoring the sting of realizing that this boy had been a child when Pete had started out, he chose to accept the compliment he had clumsily tried to make. "Yes, well, different time. Man could still make a go at cheap drinks."

"Yes, and Pete has done wonders selling his 'tonic water' to the masses," Evelyn all but sneered. Beside him, Pete could feel Jackie stiffen, but he merely smiled harder at her, familiar with the veiled barbs at this point.

"Well, it's made a nice living for all of us, now, hasn't it Evie. What's that you wearing tonight? De Laurente?"

"Dior," she replied without missing a beat, tossing her dark hair and smoothing her hands down the sapphire blue gown. "And no one is questioning you are good at it."

"Funny, Evie, that's exactly what that sounded like," Pete replied smoothly. "It's a wonder you haven't given up your shares long ago, seeing as you have always hated my methods."

Evelyn's expression became a little brittle at that. "You and Andy always have wanted me off the board. Never have liked the fact that a woman is playing with the boys in there."

It was Evelyn's fall back argument, and one with only a thread of truth. Other women served on the Vitex's board, and many of their most powerful investment groups were led by women. Evelyn was a woman who played hard ball, and that did make many of those old boys, like Andy, uncomfortable. And perhaps Pete wouldn't have minded, if her rabble rousing wasn't so continuous and often pointless.

"Evelyn, if I thought you could run my company without running it into the ground, I'd give it to you in a heartbeat, but frankly, you would be rotten at it. We all know you would. And it has nothing to do with the fact you are a woman. It has everything to do with the fact you are an awful business person."

If he'd slapped her in the face he didn't think he could have produced the stunned, angry look on her haughty face. "You would do this here, Peter? On a dance floor, at an event where you are trying to get my money to build your toy flying machines?"

"Pete," Jackie whispered at his elbow, tugging gently on it. "Perhaps this isn't the best time."

"No, I think it's a good time!" His temper was getting the better of him, he knew it, and suddenly couldn't give a rat's arse. "You were invited here, Evelyn, as a board woman of high standing on an investment opportunity. But frankly, I'd have not had you here if you were just going to piss on it like everything else."

The brittle expression began to crack into fury of her own. "Piss on everything, is it? You, Peter Tyler, have treated this company as your personal plaything, ignoring everything going on behind your back and showing up simply to flash smiles and shake hand and waltz off again. You've not given a damn about Vitex in a decade, else you'd never have sold to to John Lumic in the first place, a situation we all knew was shady. Tell me, Peter, how much did you really know about what Lumic was up to and what he had planned for all of us?"

Violet eyes cut, slashing to Jackie trying to hover unobtrusively at his shoulder. "How convenient that your wife was taken and then mysteriously found. Was that part of the plan too, so you wouldn't have to suffer the same consequences as the rest of us? Just who did you side with in all of that, Peter? Who are you loyal to?"

Her words, increasingly heated in tone and volume, hit just at the break in the music, right in the middle of the crowded dance floor as everyone turned to stare at the scene unfolding before them. Peck noticed, he grabbed for Evelyn's hand, trying to turn her attention, while Jackie groaned softly beside him. From off to the the side, Pete could just make out Harry's bright head making its way through the bodies, trying to stem the damage, but Pete was already annoyed enough not to care anymore.

"I didn't know you ever questioned my loyalty, Evelyn." Pete's tone was quiet, but dangerous as a murmur whispered around him from the crowd that circled them.

"I wanted to take Vitex from you years ago, but you always had Andy as your lackey cutting off any support I got. I knew you couldn't be trusted, not a man like you, in bed with those with questionable motives." He knew she meant Lumic, but her body language all pointed towards Jackie. "Missing wife, long lost daughter, really, Peter? Why so many secrets? And who do you think you are fooling? Just what are you really up to with all of this?"

Harry had just broken through the shoulders of people when it happened. Really, it was so unexpected that Pete barely knew what was going on. He heard Jackie vaguely whisper something about "being sick", and before the words even registered in his brain, she was heaving in an ugly, retching sound that startled everyone so completely, they couldn't move.

Vomit spewed with pinpoint accuracy right at Evelyn Harris' blue, silk gown. With shrieks of dismay the crowd in general, and Evelyn in particular, couldn't get away fast enough. Poor Jackie lurched and coughed, as Pete grabbed her heaving sides and held her steady, despite the chaos that broke out around them. It only took seconds, really, but the damage was done. Sick covered the floor in a rank mess, and Evelyn Harris stood on the edge of it, blazing indignation and disgust, not at Pete this time, but at Jackie.

"Oh God," Jackie whispered, blue eyes tearful and horror stricken as she held a messy hand over her mouth, staring at Evelyn in abject embarrassment.

"You...horrid, fucking bitch!" The other woman shrieked, as Harry stared between the two, unsure which to confront first, the raging, vomit covered woman or the distraught one.

"I'm so sorry," Jackie managed, before retching again.

"Jacks," Pete murmured, ignoring the general move of the crowd away from the smell and the drama, as he heard Andy calling for clean up in a voice loud enough to wake the dead.

"Evelyn, she was just sick," Peck murmured, gingerly reaching for the other woman's arm.

"It was on purpose," she insisted, picking at the once fine silk with a growl of dismay. "I know Jackie Tyler, low-life chav she is, and it is just the low attack she would commit."

"I told you I wasn't feeling well," she whimpered at Pete, oblivious to the other woman. "I didn't mean it."

"Shhh, Jacks, I know, let's get you out and cleaned up."

"Not before you deal with me, Peter!" Evelyn's shrill indignation rang across the hardwood. "This was a handmade couture your wife just puked on, what do you plan on doing about it?"

"Send me the dry cleaning bill," he snapped.

Before any further reply could be made, Jackie made a soft sigh and slumped nearly out of Pete's grasp. While Evelyn exclaimed to any and all that this is what happened when people couldn't hold their liquor, he ignored her as he neatly scooped up the now faint Jackie, Harry hustling at last to handle the situation.

"Take her upstairs to the Green Guest Room. I'll handle Evie, she's wound up."

"Right," Pete replied, pushing through the remaining gawkers, Jackie lolling in his arms.

Well, the night had gone pear shaped rather quickly indeed. Angry and worried for Jacks, he only did just manage to hear Hikaru toast Andy slightly drunkenly, "Andy, you always have the best parties!"


	4. Chapter 4

"How is she doing?" Harry bustled in, eyeing Jackie where she lay on the pale, green bedspread as Pete gently swabbed what remained of vomit and smudged mascara off her face.

"Still out," he replied grimly, pretending that the rough growl in his voice was not fear and worry. "Evelyn stop her screeching?"

"I lent her one of the bathrobes from the pool and saw her and her guest out the door." Harry's hard expression said it all. Evelyn caused a scene, and Pete had played into her hands. He'd let the horrible woman egg him on, and poor Jackie...he sighed, eyeing her laying so pale against the down pillows.

"Bugger it all," he muttered, tossing the damp washrag onto the the nightstand. "This will be trouble."

"You let Andy handle Evelyn, he's had loads of practice," Harry brushed him off, holding up a small vial in one hand. "Brought the old smelling salts. Mother used them herself, old-fashioned, but they work."

Unscrewing the top, she waved the vial under Jackie's nose. Even from his place a foot away he could smell the acrid, ammonia scent, so it was no surprise when Jackie's head jerked and her eyes fluttered, automatically pushing away Harry's hand and grumbling loudly "G'off now...what is that?"

Harry only chuckled as she capped the vial, shaking it knowingly. "Just something to wake you up. How are you feeling?"

Jackie blinked owlishly for a moment, memory hitting her. That's when the horror and embarrassment crept in. "Oh, God, I just hurled on that stupid bint!"

Harry's laughter was quickly cut off by Pete, who had to admit, it was rather funny in hindsight. "Yes, yes you did."

"Pete, this isn't funny. Oh God, that dress, that was a designer one, and I just spewed all over it."

"That's all right, she can afford a new one," Harry put in politely. "You feeling better?"

"I told him I wasn't feeling good earlier. I don't know what happened!" Large tears were beginning to pool, threatening to fall as her voice cracked. "My first night out, trying to not make a fool of myself, and I embarrassed myself beyond belief!"

"Oh, sweetheart," Pete sighed, pulling Jackie up as he wrapped her up tightly, not caring that her mascara and tears were about to ruin his shirt. "No one will think badly of you, I promise."

"That stupid bint will," Jackie insisted, her sob muffled into the fabric of his shoulder.

"She was just looking at a reason to egg me on, Jacks, nothing more or less." He stroked her hair, glancing at Harry's sympathetic expression. "Can you call our car up? I'm going to get her home."

"Of course," Harry murmured, gently touching Jackie's shoulder. "Jackie, really, don't feel badly. It was an accident. And really...can you honestly say she didn't have it coming to her?"

Jackie raised her tearful face just enough to shake her head slightly. "No," she admitted with a bit of a hiccup.

"Right, then. I'll go get your driver, then." With her pervasive air of quiet efficiency, Harry hurried out, leaving Jackie snuffling quietly against Pete's chest.

"She hates me," Jackie finally murmured sadly. "I don't even know her and she hates me."

"Evelyn Harris hates anyone she feels thwarts her, so don't take it personally," Pete tried to joke, but clearly it did nothing to alleviate Jackie's hurt. He hugged her tighter. "Seriously, Jacks, Evelyn has had it out for me since she came on the board. She's never liked me, tried to vote me out three times I know of."

"But you own the company," Jackie mumbled against his chest.

"Yeah, I do, but it's complicated, love." He could explain the tricky nature of investors and image, but he doubted now would be a good time to bring it up. "I should have listened to you when you said you weren't feeling well."

"I can't believe I hurled like that."

"Well, Evelyn was being awful. I think I wanted to as well."

"Everyone will talk!"

"And they will get over it." He kissed the top of her head. "By far it's not the most embarrassing thing you've ever done at a party."

"Yes it is," she muttered firmly. "Every other time I waited till I got home to embarrass myself proper in the loo."

"Not in this world," he sighed, pulling her away to brush at her now splotchy, red face. "The first posh party my Jackie and I went to, it was the first time she had ever gone to anything so fine. Never even had tried proper wine before. Drank too much of it, ended up falling into the pool before passing at cold on the patio, sprawled over a divan."

It had been a story that had made all the papers and had utterly mortified his wife. Now, this Jackie, managed to choke out a laugh, wiping at still streaming eyes with the back of her hand. "La, I was never that bad. What did she do?"

"Oh, she picked herself back up. She took all the snide comments about being a 'chav' and 'clearly not cut out' and reinvented herself."

She had reinvented herself all right, so much so that they barely recognized each other in the end. "Point is, Evelyn Harris is one woman. Who cares? You haven't ruined everything just because you got sick. You can pick yourself up again."

"Yeah," she sniffed, a smile starting to tug at her tear-swollen lips. "It was pretty funny, the look on her face!"

"Oh, God, I thought she was going to murder you," Pete snickered. "You hit her, full blast."

"Is she always that horrific?"

"Usually, though I think she was worse because she'd been drinking."

"And that man with her, he her date?"

Pete had nearly forgotten Jeremy Peck. "Who knows! Poor fellow, caught in her clutches."

"Bet she sucks the youth and money out of him and buries the bodies in her backyard," Jackie tittered, coloring returning to her cheeks. "Why does she hate you so badly?"

"Who knows?" Pete had never bothered to completely figure out why. "Her late husband wasn't exactly my biggest fan, but she's taken a full on hate for me since coming onto the board. Always questioned my leadership, which, at times I will grant, hasn't been wonderful."

"But why make a scene like that? Doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't, but I'm half convinced she's mad anyway." If Pete had bothered being offended by every slight from Evelyn Harris and her ilk, he wouldn't have stayed in business so long. "You feel better? Ready to go home?"

"Yeah," she sighed, sitting up enough to let Pete help her up. She seemed fine now, better even.

"I'll chat with Pierre tomorrow, right? See if we can figure out what's going on?"

"Good," she murmured, looking down sadly at her now spattered dress. "The nicest one I had ever owned and I went and ruined it."

"We'll get you another," he soothed her. "Could just send it with Evelyn's for dry cleaning."

This made her laugh. "Well, if I have to make a first impression, at least it was a memorable one, yeah?"

"No one said you lacked style, love, or deadly accuracy."

They were near the stairs leading back down to the main floor when Harry found them. "Your driver is coming to the back. Everybody else are making their way out now. I guess a little vomit on the floor dampened the party."

"I'm so sorry," Jackie murmured, for what felt like the hundredth time, but Harry fluttered a hand dismissively.

"Honestly, the most fun Andy's had at a party in years. He's been waiting for Evie to get her just deserts forever."

"And here I thought you two were such 'close friends'," Pete teased, knowing full well it was Evelyn who usually said that.

"Please, I'm her handler, darling, I get Evelyn. She was a pretty young thing who married an ancient dinosaur with the hopes of getting enough money to do what she wanted in life and felt she was denied."

"Like that Anna Nicole person, right," piped up Jackie. "Marrying some old fart in the hopes of getting his money?"

The blank looks from both Pete and Harry quickly clued Jackie in she'd made the faux paux of referencing something not in this world. She was quick on her feet though. "Oh...it's a character I read in a novel once, girl who married an old man for money and his kids hated her for it."

Harry at least believed her enough go with the analogy. "Well, her and Thomas never had children, and he had no others that I know of. Frankly, I always thought he was gay until he married Evie. She was part of the right set, of course, her father used to go hunting with him and I guess they cooked up the idea. I imagine Evie got tired of being passed around like a tennis ball around the old boys' club."

"So she reacted by making everyone else's lives miserable," Pete muttered as they made their way down the functional back stairwell into the bustling kitchen, still full of kitchen staff cleaning and tossing out the uneaten remains of party food.

"I can't fault her the reasons for her anger, just her methods of venting it," Harry replied, leading them out the back door of the kitchen and into a small delivery area, where party trucks and the musicians van were parked. Just off he could see the bright lights of his driver waiting patiently.

"Try to feel better, Jackie, dear," Harry gingerly leaned in to brush a kiss against Jackie's cheek. "It was a rough night, but you'll rally. I'll call on you this week for lunch, if you are up to it."

"Thank you," Jackie whispered, still looking as if she'd rather the world swallowed her whole before then.

"Peter, get her home, get her rest, and leave the damage control to the two of us." Harry patted his cheek, her rings heavy against it. "We'll get you that money you want."

"Right, you will." He flashed her a cheeky grin before kissing her cheek. "Thanks for taking care of Jacks."

"Take care of her, Peter. You are damn lucky getting her back at all."

"Don't I know it," he replied, rushing back to the car where Jackie already curled quietly in the back seat. Wrapping himself around her, the car pulled out of the back entrance to the large estate, bypassing the line of cars all attempting to go out the front, speeding off in the night.

They sat in silence for long minute, so quiet that Pete thought that Jackie had finally given in and nodded off to sleep. They were nearly to their own front gates when she finally did speak up, quietly. "Pete?"

"Yeah," he murmured.

"We don't have to tell Rose about this...do we?"

He had to admit, the thought of what to tell Rose hadn't really crossed his mind. "We don't have to, I guess."

"I mean, I just don't want her to worry about me is all."

"Okay."

"And I don't want her and Mickey laughing either."

"Rose would never laugh at something like this."

Jackie lifted her head up enough to glare at him.

"Okay, might laugh at the situation," Pete admitted. "Mickey would laugh at you, though."

"Told you."

"We will keep it our little secret," he assured her softly. "Besides, come the morning something else will come up along and everyone will have forgotten you got sick all over Evelyn Harris and her Dior dress."

"I hope so," she yawned. "Honestly, not three months in this world with you and already I've got a reputation, and not a good one."

"Such is the life of Jackie Tyler," Pete teased as they pulled up in front of the house. "You'll see, everyone will forget it all soon enough."

"I'll hold your word to that," Jackie muttered, though she didn't particularly sound convinced.


	5. Chapter 5

Rose sat at the informal kitchen table, tablet in hand, calmly drinking a cup of coffee and eyeing Pete speculatively as he managed to put together his own mug of glorious, liquid heaven. It was strong and dark enough to eat paint off a car, and he held the mug to his face as if willing himself awake on fumes alone.

"Long night," Rose asked, smirking as he cracked one eye to regard his now-daughter blearily, stumbling to the table to slump to a chair.

"Something like that," he muttered, sipping the steaming liquid, trying to trip his brain into gear. He was never a morning person by rule, and on a Saturday it was all the worse.

"I saw it was exciting," Rose casually, flipping the tablet to face him. On its screen were words in large, black type screaming "Pukey Jackie, Party Snaffy!" Below was a grainy, blurry colored image of an enraged Evelyn screaming at the back of Pete's head, Jackie in his arms. Obviously a tablet phone shot, poorly rendered and the most exploitative.

The coffee hadn't even hit Pete's brain and already a headache was starting to form behind his eyes. "Didn't take those vultures long, I see."

Rose raised a dark eyebrow to her fringe of golden blonde hair. "So I guess it did happen, eh?"

"Oh, your Mum made a right mess, that's for sure. Wasn't her fault, though." He frowned at the article and its implications. "Sure as hell wasn't off her face, if that's what they are implying."

"Not them, but that cow who she got sick all over. Who is she, anyway?"

"Evelyn Harris, a pain in my arse, and I'll leave it at that." He drank deeply, the coffee only just cool enough not to scald his mouth. "Last thing we need is trouble from her."

"How's Mum feeling?" Rose at least clicked off the offensive image, choosing to munch on toast rather than fret on the tabs.

"Was still sleeping when I left her. Figure she needs a bit of a lie in, I can check on her in a bit." He frowned at Rose's toast. "No housekeeper today?"

"It's Saturday, Mum decided she could have the weekends." Rose shrugged, nodding towards the fridge. "Cereal you could have, if you want."

"Yeah," he sighed, thinking of Jackie's complaint regarding Pierre and making the mental note to call the personal chef later. "You haven't had a problem with the cooking, have you?"

"No," Rose replied around a mouthful of toast and jam. "Don't tell Mum, best I've ever had. Well, done by a human, leastways."

Pete couldn't tell if the flush across her cheeks was embarrassment at admitting her mother couldn't cook or a vague reference to the one alien he knew she'd spent the most time with. "You know, I never had a problem with him once in five years."

"Could just be the stomach flu, is all." Rose hardly seemed concerned. "Anyway, I'll be off soon."

Pete shuffled off to the refrigerator looking for sustenance other than coffee. "Off? On a Saturday?"

"Yeah, Jake is picking me up. Mickey's gran isn't doing so well, we are just going around to help him with stuff."

"Mickey should move her out of there. It's dangerous, the old neighborhood, with its curfews and all," Pete mumbled, grabbing the milk.

"It's home, though," Rose replied. Try as she might, Pete could hear the pained sadness and hint of longing in her voice. Rose said very little about "home" as it were, not in the three months she had been in this world. Perhaps to Mickey and Jake, her two companions in crime these days, but never to Pete. He sighed, turning to face her as he leaned against the black granite counter.

"That's why you do it? Because it reminds you of home?"

Rose ducked her cinnamon colored eyes, toying with the last bit of crust left on her plate. "Guess, a bit. Rita Mae just is home to me. She used to watch me when I was little, you know."

"She's not your Rita Mae," Pete replied, though wished he hadn't at the flickering grimace that crossed his daughter's face.

"I know. She doesn't even know me, but you know, it's something to hold on to. Everything else is so mad around here. I didn't exist here, while everyone else did. Ever wonder why that is?"

Pete had. He'd thought a lot about it in the years between Rose's first entrance into his life and when she had returned. What would the world have been like if he and Jackie had settled down, had the kid he'd always wanted and she never seemed interested in? Would things have gone so off track with them? He couldn't say. Still, he also couldn't imagine what it was like for the girl sitting in front of him, knowing that everyone she ever loved existed in this world except for her.

Well, except for one other person as well.

Pete sighed. "Wish I knew. Maybe you were supposed to exist over here, but me and my Jackie couldn't get our acts together. Who knows."

"Funny how the universe works," she snorted sadly, before slapping on a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Anyway, was thinking Mum could come with, maybe. Might cheer her up!"

Pete grimaced. "She might. But I'm not joking, it's not safe over there, not like in your world."

"What you mean not safe in my world, it wasn't safe there neither, you just got used to it." Rose sniffed, picking up her mug. Pete didn't quite have the courage to tell her he'd visited her Powell Estates, had seen their tiny apartment there, had listened in on her conversation with her mother on the phone. Somehow, he didn't feel Rose would be quite understanding about it.

"Well, make sure Simmonds is discreetly armed, alright?" Pete busied himself with pouring cereal and tried not to look guilty as Rose laughed at him, leaning over to hug him briefly.

"You worry too much."

"It's why they pay me the big bucks," Pete groused, setting aside the milk jug and poking the flakes in his bowl with a spoon. He regarded the girl briefly as she returned to her toast and her tablet, her dyed blonde hair up in pigtails, clad in lounging clothes and bright purple, fuzzy socks, not yet ready for the day. That she was his daughter was almost undeniable once you got to know her. Rose was fearless, or at least came off that way, seeming to have no problem throwing herself in danger's path, always with a smile that could light up London. Compassionate, caring, warm, she was everything that Pete could have hoped his little girl would have grown up to be. There were many days since her arrival in his life that he'd found himself wishing heartily he'd had been there when she was growing, had held her hand in her first toddling steps, watched her as she wandered off to school. Maybe even beaten up this infamous Jimmy Stone that Mickey liked to glower about. That he had never gotten that chance at all was painful enough. That the version of himself that had actually fathered her had died before he'd been given the chance was downright cruel. He'd stopped existing in her life. She'd never existed in his.

"So, Miles came and saw me yesterday before I left the office," Pete offered nonchalantly, crunching on a mouthful of cereal and washing it down with the bitter, now cooling coffee.

"Hmmm," Rose hummed by way of distracted reply.

"Said he's been talking to the Shadow Proclamation," he continued, digging further into his bowl. "He thinks we need an ambassador."

"Yeah," Rose nodded, her pigtails bobbing, but her amber eyes flickering across the screen.

"He said you suggested me."

Only the flicker of a crease between her dark brows indicated that she was paying any attention. She didn't look up at him, but shrugged as she swiped a finger across the tablets interface.

"It's nice of you, you know," Pete continued, trying to prod some sort of response out of her. "I mean, to think of me that way."

She clearly got the message he wasn't letting the idea go. Sighing, she set the tablet down. "You'd be good at it. I mean, you run Vitex, you run Torchwood. You deal with difficult people all the time."

It was the same reasoning Miles had given him as well. "I'm not saying you don't have a point. It's just...I don't know if the world's ready for something like this. Knowing that we aren't alone. That their are aliens out there, whole races of people who look different, act different, some don't even talk."

"They have to figure out about it sometime," Rose replied, tugging restlessly at the cuffs of her tracksuit top. "I mean, it's not like they aren't here already. Think of all the manpower that Torchwood spends just on field operations and hiding their existence. What if the world knew the truth?"

"You think they'd just take to it, like they did earpods or tablets now?"

"They might surprise you!"

Pete ignored the derisive snort of cynicism that rose in his brain. Rose, despite it all, seemed an endless font of optimism and goodwill regarding the human race, a naively Pollyanna trait that he found endearing, but not very practical in a nuts and bolts sort of way. Still, she did have something of a point, Miles did as well. The Earth had to get used to the idea they were not alone at some point. The bigger question was how to broach the subject."

"I'll tell you what I told Miles, if you can come up with a practical idea to make this work, I'm all ears. I asked him to put together a group to work with the Shadow Proclamation, and he's asked if you can be on it."

"Me?" She nearly tugged the fabric right off her sleeve in wide-eyed surprise.

"Well, more you, Mickey, and Jake, but yeah. Miles thinks you'd be perfect for the role."

Doubt flickered briefly across Rose's expression at his words. "I don't know about that. Seriously, I don't know anything about how the Shadow Proclamation works, or diplomacy, or any of that."

"But you've at least had the advantage of interaction with alien races and not managing to make a mess of it," Pete replied amiably.

"Yeah, you didn't see me with the Sycorax," she muttered, slouching in her chair. "Miles asked for me?"

"And I said yes."

She sucked in her bottom lip, gnawing on it thoughtfully. "I don't know, I've never had to just do this without...you know, the Doctor around to make it better. He knew everything about everything."

"And he picked you out of how many other people to drag across the universe. I don't think the Doctor is the type to pick up idiots."

That seemed to reassure her, just a little. "So what would we be doing, then? Just...talking to people?"

"I'll leave the particulars to Miles. I'm not involved." Truth was, Pete wasn't sure how involved he wanted to be in any of this. Beyond his own doubts regarding the idea, he had a new company to start and two to run. Playing nice with what was essentially a foreign government wasn't exactly in his best interest. "But I will say this, if you can develop a plan that won't cause large scale panic in the streets, then we can see where we can go with it."

"No pressure or anything," she breathed nervously.

"I think you can handle it. You've said the universe. What's a little diplomacy?"

"So says you," Rose snorted, gathering the remains of her unfinished toast and coffee.

"I wouldn't say if I didn't believe you could do it."

She smiled tightly, tossing the last of her breakfast and rinsing her dishes. It was a lot to put on her. But Rose was made of tough stuff. And if it could ease, even for a moment, the loss of the Doctor...well, throwing himself into Torchwood had helped him when he lost his first Jackie.

"I'm going to check on Mum, see how she is. Maybe she'll want to come with, she's been saying she would like to see Rita Mae."

Pete wasn't sure he liked it. The old estates weren't safe, but then again he had a feeling Jacks would need something to distract her the minute she saw the headlines over a picture with her spewing vomit all over Evelyn Harris. "Just be safe."

"Not like we don't know how to handle it," Rose waved him off in mild irritation. He said little as he watched her bound out of the kitchen, towards the stairs. He knew she didn't believe him when he said she could do it, not because she believed Pete to be lying, but because she lacked the confidence in her own capabilities. For all that Rose had traveled the universe with an ancient alien and had gotten into more mad adventures than he ever cared to think about, in her own mind she still was just the chavvy shop girl from the estates. Pete knew that feeling well. He'd thought that about himself for many years as well. He hoped that doing this, she'd finally learn to see in herself the same spark that Pete saw in her. The same spark he was certain the Doctor saw in her as well.

He'd barely finished his bowl of cereal when Rose's shriek sounded from above stairs. Nearly knocking over the heavy, oak table in his haste, he was up the stairs two at a time, stopping at at the door of the master suite he shared with Jackie. Rose was already huddled over her mother, who was clearly out cold on the floor.

"I was talking to her and she just passed out, like that," Rose stammered, lightly smacking her mother's pale cheeks with her fingers.

Jackie didn't so much as stir.


	6. Chapter 6

Rose paced the length of the A&amp;E, her slippers scraping against the tile. She hadn't even bothered to change them, there had been no time. Pete watched her shuffle from one end of the cramped waiting area, with its medicinal smell and it's outdated magazines, as she chewed the corner of one thumbnail, eyes fixed to the pale, gray flooring. He should comfort her, he knew, perhaps wrap an arm around her and assure her that everything was alright. That was what a father did, right?

Her voice, cracking, caught him out of his careful study of her agitated wandering. "She's never been sick, Mum. Not once that I can remember."

Pete blinked, frowning at her. Rose gnawed on her nail, wrapping an arm around her middle.

"She didn't have a cold or the flu when you were little?"

Rose frowned a little, but didn't stop. "Perhaps, yeah, once or twice. Not so much as she would pass out, though. Not even when she got pissed would she pass out, and I saw her off her face a few times."

Pete could only nod. He had no idea, of course. He imagined that Jackie likely got sick a lot more than she let on to her daughter. Of course she might hide it, who else was there to take care of a rambunctious little girl growing up?

"I'm sure it's nothing, sweetheart," he tried to murmur in consolation, the words wooden on his tongue, the endearment not one he was used to using with Rose. "I mean, she was complaining she wasn't feeling well last night. Might just be a bug."

Rose look warily hopeful, shrugging her track suit jacket tighter.

The doors at the far end burst open, two blurs rushing in, only skidding to a stop at the site of Rose stopped, staring at them like a big-eyed deer in headlamps. Jake just did avoid slamming into her, but not Mickey, who wrapped her completely in a hug, lifting her off the ground as if Rose was the one who was hurt, not her mother.

"We came as soon as we heard," Mickey gasped, finally setting a protesting Rose down, eyes wide in his dark face. "Is she alright, she going to be okay?"

"We don't know," Rose murmured, as Jake managed to pry her away from his partner and wrap her in a brief, but much less anxious hug.

"Don't know? Whatcha mean you don't know? I mean, this is Jackie Tyler, right, they'd have to hop to it?" Mickey turned to Pete accusingly, as if he had anything to do with the medical system.

"They'll let us know when they have something," Pete replied, trying very hard not to snap at the very frightened young man who looked as if he expected Pete to walk in with the full might of Torchwood on his heels and demand answers, something Pete wasn't about to do. "They are checking her out and they'll get back to us if they know something."

"They better," Mickey snapped. Rose rolled her eyes and gently tried to maneuver him to a chair, slipping from frightened daughter to consoling friend with the blink of an eye.

"Miles was who let us know," Jake murmured, wandering to address Pete directly. "He gave us a call you came here with Jackie. Mickey flipped. We were at his gran's, got us here as quick as we could."

"How did Miles find out?" Pete hadn't even had time to get himself and Rose out the door with the unconscious and unresponsive Jackie, let alone a chance to inform anyone else.

"Ianto," Jake shrugged, explaining further at Pete's clear confusion. "He's seeing Ianto Jones over at Vitex. He's the assistant to the head of PR over there, they were already covering last night when they got word you were headed this way and they are trying to direct the press."

Pete could only nod, far too frazzled to piece together the complex web of relationships between the two companies he ran. "Just as long as they keep them off for a while. Jacks has had a rough enough day."

"Tell me about it. Saw the celeb news." Jake's lean face winced in sympathy. "Think she'll be all right?"

"I don't know," Pete murmured softly, glancing at Rose and Mickey, the former hugging the latter tightly in a way only people who'd known each other all their lives could. Mickey at least understood Rose and her fear and pain. He'd grown up with the lonely little girl who had no dad and raised just by her mum. Now the only stable thing in her world was sick. Mickey at least understood that.

Pete Tyler, father-of-the-year, he was.

"Mr. Tyler?" A crisp, feminine voice cut across the waiting room from the double doors leading to the medical area, a woman in a white medical coat looking at him expectantly. Pete threw himself up, Rose at his heels as he crossed to her, taking her outstretched hand.

"Doctor Kulkarni," she introduced herself, firmly and professionally. There appeared to be nothing terribly alarming in her smile.

"My wife, is she...all right?" Pete found himself stuttering all over himself, his heart suddenly in his throat.

"Mrs. Tyler is fine," she assured him, earning a yip from somewhere behind him that sounded like Mickey. Rose sighed and nearly collapsed in relief, grabbing his arm, as Pete found his own knees shaking slightly. "She's resting at the moment. She's severely dehydrated and tired, but she'll be all right to send home in a couple of hours."

"What was wrong?" Not that Pete was any medical expert, but none of that sounded as if it warranted the sort of symptoms he'd seen come out of Jackie.

"Nothing major," the doctor evaded, opening the door to the back. "You can go in and see her, you and your daughter, if you'd like."

He knew the doctor wasn't telling him everything, but he wasn't willing to make a scene. He glanced at Rose who was already making her way through the doors and down the hall, unwilling to wait any longer to see her mother.

"I promise you, Mr. Tyler, she's fine,' Dr. Kulkarni assured him. "I'll let her tell you the rest."

"The rest of what?"

Jake pushed him hard towards the door. "Go check in on her for us and let me and Micks know before he goes spare out here."

"Oye," Mickey protested loudly, but Pete couldn't hear Jake's laughing retort as he hurried down the way to follow Rose. She stood outside of a door down the way, waiting for him. Just inside, he could see the plain, utilitarian bed with Jackie propped up in it, staring blankly at the television that flickered in the wall opposite.

"Mum," Rose called, slipping into the door as Jackie turned. That was all it took for her daughter to dissolve into tears as she rushed to the bed, throwing her arms around her mother as Jackie cooed and sighed, wrapping her arms around Rose's shaking shoulders.

"Sweetheart, I'm fine!" That did little to assuage her daughter, who continued to sob loudly as Jackie tried to comfort her. "Rose, love, I'm not dead. I'm all right."

"You...you were so still….I couldn't….I…" Rose's response came out in broken gasps as she pulled away, wiping at her streaming face with the back of her sleeve.

"I never meant to scare you, love." She sighed, looking up at Pete with apology written all over her face. "You neither."

"Aged me ten years, you did," he admitted, taking her outstretched hand. "Honestly, Jacks, if you weren't feeling well, I'd have not gone last night."

"No, you needed to," she murmured distractedly, reaching with her other hand to smooth back one of Rose's pigtails out of her now flushed and sticky face. "Anyway, I didn't expect it. Couldn't have done."

"No one expects to get sick," Rose sniffed, glaring at her mother as if that were obvious.

"I'm not sick! Well...not exactly." She glanced back and forth nervously between the pair of them.

"Not sick, Mum, the tabs have you puking your supper all over some stupid bint who was screaming at you!"

Pete wished Rose hadn't have blurted that one out.

"Oh, God, they didn't?" Jackie's wide, blue eyes turned to him, and Pete found himself studiously studying the bland tile while rubbing the back of his stubbly head. "How did they get it?"

"Evelyn likely screamed it to anyone who would listen," Pete reasoned, trying to smile and make light of it. "Honestly, Jacks, no one is going to care. A touch of flu, no one can be upset about that."

"It wasn't the flu, you plum! I'm pregnant!"

For a long, long minute, the only sound in the room was the soft beep of the medical equipment and the hum of the air in the vents overhead. Pete felt his own heart stop, his breath catch as he blinked, once, twice, three times, uncomprehending at Jackie's worried and embarrassed expression.

Rose broke the silence, finally. Her voice caught with a wavering "Mum?"

"Oh, Rose," Jackie sniffed as large, fat tears began to dribble down her face. "I don't know how it even happened!"

A ghost of a smirk flickered to life on the girl's face. "I seem to remember you were the one who taught me how babies were made. Seems like a fairly straightforward process to me."

Pete was becoming more and more familiar with the tile floor, his ears practically burning as he could almost hear the blush in Jackie's voice. "No need for your smart cracks. That's not what I meant and you know it. I was careful, always was, you know that. Taught you that, myself. I shouldn't have been able too. I got my shots, nice and regular, just in case...you know."

Pete vaguely wished he wasn't standing there for this conversation. All the same, he couldn't help but peek up pointedly at a fairly crimson Jackie.

"What," she protested a bit forcefully in her embarrassment. "I was a widow, and Rose was out with her Doctor. I got lonely, same as everyone else, but I wasn't about to do something stupid. I got it same as I always do. I shouldn't have been able to."

"When was that," Rose pressed, thoughtful.

"Right before you got sent back, before even the pair of you showed up with himself with a new face."

Rose's frown only deepened. "Mum, that was forever ago, can't have been."

"Time travel has made you daft," Jackie retorted. "You and the Doctor left right after the New Year, 2006. Then you show back up on my doorstep with your laundry, that was..."

"April, Mum, already seven months, maybe eight."

Jackie paled.

"And we've been here three." Rose glanced at Pete, her cheeks as bright as his own. "And...uh...you know, locking yourselves in your room, things...well happen."

Jackie's embarrassment overcame her horror at her miscalculation. "Right, miss. No getting smart and smirking at me." She slapped her daughter's shoulder, only earning a laugh for her troubles.

"Mum, honestly, I'm old enough to know. And besides, I always wanted a brother or sister." Her initial shock was now giving way to glee as she fairly bounced on the hard, medical mattress. "Oh, I can spoil them rotten and teach them all the naughty things to do."

"Right helpful in a crisis you are," Jackie snapped, turning worriedly to Pete, who had still had said nothing. "What you think about this, Pete?"

He wasn't sure he had words to express what he thought about it. A baby? Their child?

Sensing the well of emotion under the surface, Rose managed to contain her delight and slip from her mother's side. "Mick and Jake are outside, beside themselves. I think I'll let them know."

Jackie only nodded as Rose made for the door, giving Pete a reassuring smile before she left. The heavy door closed with an audible click in their now, heavy silence.

"Say something, Pete," Jackie finally whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "I didn't mean to get pregnant. I thought...everything got muddled with the ghosts, and then Torchwood, and getting trapped here, and..."

He realized only as she started to babble she really believed he was angry at her for this. "Jackie, I'm not angry."

She stopped, middle syllable, her mouth hanging for a moment before she slammed it shut with an audible "pop". "You aren't?"

"No," he repled, finally finding movement enough in his feet to shuffle to her bed. "I feel a lot of things right now, but angry isn't one of them."

"What do you feel," she queried, something small and vulnerable laying in that question.

He settled in the place Rose had just vacated, the bed shifting under his weight, though Jackie didn't move a muscle. Her fingers were cool and twitched nervously as he reached for them, trying to pull together some sort of words that expressed just what he was feeling in that moment.

"Honestly...I don't know how to express it. Stunned, yeah. Scared, a little. Thrilled?" A soft smile crept over his face. "Yeah, that too."

Relief, like a sunrise, spread over Jackie's face, the tears that had been threatening falling in force. "I was so scared when they told me. I thought you'd think I was trapping you or something."

"Trapping me, Jackie, love?" He pulled her away from her nest of pillows and into his arms as she half sobbed, half laughed, emotions scattered and fractured. "I was the one who had to convince you to give us another go. Remember that part?"

"I just...didn't know what to think." She sniffed, pulling away sheepishly. "Can I say it was hormones?"

"Sure," he grinned, reaching to the bedside table for a tissue. "A baby?"

"Yeah!" Even with a teary face she beamed in shy pleasure. "Always wanted another one. Someone to grow up with Rose, but...well, I was having a hard enough time raising her, and I didn't want to foist another kid into her life unless I had a good man along with it. And that never seemed to happen."

"I always wanted kids, too." His wife hadn't wanted kids. There was one excuse after the other, of course, wanting to wait till they were more settled, wait till Vitex really took off, wait till they found a house. Eventually, Pete had given up waiting and resigned himself to never having children. Until Rose wandered into his life. "I didn't think I'd ever get that chance."

"So, you're okay with this?" She still didn't sound particularly certain that he wasn't.

"What you want, a signed declaration from me?"

Jackie was only slightly put off by his teasing. "A signed declaration wouldn't hurt."

"I'll have my lawyers on it."

"I'm serious," she insisted at Pete's playful smirk. "If you and I are having a baby, we are doing it proper, man and wife."

Pete frowned, puzzled. "Jacks, to all the world we are man and wife. Got the certificate and everything."

"We know the truth, that we aren't. I married my Pete, you married your Jackie," she replied firmly. And she had a point. Technically, they weren't the people that they had each married, for all that they pretended.

"So, what, you want us to get re-married? I'm not sure they allow that sort of thing."

"We can 'renew our vows'. People do it all the time. Say we are doing it on the occasion of finding out I was having another baby, and after all the stuff we've been through, all that, and no one will know the difference."

Pete could only stare at Jackie, impressed. "You really thought this out, didn't you?"

Jackie flushed, but stubbornly lifted her chin. "I'm serious, Pete. I don't want any child of mine born out of wedlock."

He could only laugh at the scandal she infused the words with. "All right, we can do it. Do it up right this time, yeah? Not that patched up affair at the ballroom your dad managed."

"A church wedding, this time," she demanded, to his surprise, neither of them being particularly religious. "All nice and proper. And a big party somewhere, with just people we like. Didn't have that last time."

"Didn't have a honeymoon last time. Want one of those?"

"Bahamas sound nice," she immediately replied. "Never been even so far as Majorca."

"Let's do it right, then. Give you the dream wedding you always wanted."

Jackie lunged as she threw herself at him, his arms just managing to clutch her before she toppled over, tubes and all.

"Someone is feeling better," he grinned into her hair as squeezed him in abject delight.

"A wedding, a party, a baby! Only one thing could make it better," she mumbled against his chest.

"What's that?"

"You remembering to get my name right this time."

Pete's grin melted into a pool of cold nerves as he looked down at Jackie's expectant face.

"Errr...how did it go again?"


	7. Chapter 7

He'd thought he had been so clever going with a straight tie over a bow tie. Pete had bargained for how much his hands would tremble, or the sudden tightness in his throat getting in the way of a perfectly lovely Windsor knot, but then he'd been rubbish with this whole tie thing in the first place. Amazing how much trouble one bit of silk could cause.

"Here, sir." Without even a "by-your-leave", he was turned away from the mirror, his fingers being prized away from his throat by a highly disapproving Miles. "Honestly, you'll mangle it at this rate."

Pete attempted not to stare at the other's man's perfectly crafted tie with envy. "Wouldn't think that it would be that hard."

"No offense, sir, but your ties normally look as if you'd walked straight out of a booze up in some East End pub. I doubt you'd have managed this one any better."

Trust Miles to snark the world at ease. "Not all of us have your keen eye for fashion, I'm afraid."

"More's the pity," he replied, deftly knotting the silver-gray silk into a neat knot, easing it against Pete's Adam's apple. "Very proper for a wedding."

"A 're-affirmation ceremony'," Pete absently corrected, twitching the tie just enough to have it not press so hard against his throat, despite Miles' dark look.

"I simply call it making Jackie happy," Miles shot back. "She should be happy, as this is quite the party you are throwing."

It had taken three weeks and the might of several planners to scramble together to give Jackie the wedding of her dreams. Thankfully, to Pete's relief, it wasn't a huge affair with a cast of thousands. A simple service at a church, a party at one of the nicest restaurants in all London, reserved only for their use, and a honeymoon trip abroad for two weeks. The type of thing he had wanted to give to his first wife when they were kids shacking up the first time.

"She deserves it," he smiled softly. "Between her Pete and me, she's been through a lot from the likes of us."

Miles grunted by way of agreement. "Be careful, Pete. Last time, you spoiled your wife and it made her no more happy."

That much was true. "This is a different Jackie, Miles. She's been through things that the one you knew had never even dreamed of, including being stuck in a different dimension."

"Oh, I understand," Miles replied, snagging Pete's tuxedo coat and dusting it briefly before helping him slide into it. "I like this one better than the last."

It was no secret Miles had detested the first Jackie, and the feeling had been mutual on the other woman's part. "This Jackie is more compassionate. Life has been a lot harder on her. And you know, having Rose, gave her someone else to consider outside of herself for once."

And now a new baby. Pete swallowed. Was he even ready for that?

Miles seemed to echo his own concern. "Life is changing for you."

"That it is," Pete sighed, tugging on his coat. "Who would of thought it, just four months ago, a family man all the sudden."

"Life tends to do that, sometimes. Throw curves at us, knock us around. And then we look up and everything is different of a sudden."

Pete regarded Miles for a long moment. The other man rarely spoke of his own life. Pete only knew it in brief, culled from files and from Miles own rare comments. He'd had his own tragedy. A lover who died, prompting him to walk away from a career as a high level operative to join Torchwood. If anyone understood, it was him.

"I know I shouldn't be so nervous, but I am," Pete admitted, sheepishly as he paced the small room in the church where he'd been allowed to prepare. "I mean, honestly, it's not as if I don't know that she's going to marry me, and it's not like we haven't been living together for months, but…"

He trailed off, unable to find the words to express what he felt.

Miles watched him thoughtfully. "It's like it's so perfect, you're afraid it's all going to fall apart. Like you'll wake up and find it was all a dream."

"Yeah."

Miles nodded sagely. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I could punch you in the face and prove it isn't a dream."

Well, if that didn't lighten the mood, Pete snorted, smirking at the other man. "What, a pinch wouldn't do?"

"I'd rather just punch you in the face, more satisfying for me." He smirked, leaning against an antique secretary desk in the corner.

"Doubt Jacks would like me sporting a black eye in the pictures."

"Maybe not, but it would serve you for being a naval-gazing bint," Miles replied, unapologetically. "Honestly, Jackie isn't going anywhere. None of this is going away. For once in your life, Pete, it's okay to believe that things really will get better."

"I thought that once before," he snorted, but knew Miles was right. "Petes have a track record of failing Jackies."

Miles long suffering sigh was the only response he seemed to garner.

"You know I'm right," he snorted, swiveling in his pacing to glance out the window, wondering briefly where the bride was.

"And yeah, this is your second chance to do it differently," Miles shot back, rolling his eyes.

"Is that what you say about your life?" Yes, it was a diversionary tactic, but Pete was honestly curious. Miles said little about his personal relationships, he'd only just discovered Miles even was seeing someone.

"Ianto? Sure." As usual, Miles was careful. Pete had yet to meet the PA who apparently worked in PR for Vitex. "He's not Omar. No more than this Jackie is like your first Jackie. But he's a decent bloke, makes amazing coffee, is more punctilious than myself, and puts up with the likes of me."

"And you're happy?"

"As happy as I was with Omar?" He was silent for long, quiet moments. "No one could replace who he was to me. Just like, if you two are honest with yourselves, neither of you can quite replace your other selves. But Ianto is good for me now. Just like your new Jackie is. And you make it as happy as you can."

"And if I bollocks it up again?"

"Then you are an idiot and deserved neither of them," Miles supplied, pushing off the desk. "But I don't think you will. Just remember, the one thing you can do to make her happy, be present with her. She doesn't need stuff, fancy houses, or jewels; just you. If you do that, you can't bollocks it."

"You are talking to Pete Tyler, here, you know."

"I know. Which is why it's a good thing you have me around." He shot him a winning smile as something outside the window of their small room caught their eye. "I think that's your bride now."

Pete swallowed past the giant lump in his throat. "This is it, yeah?"

"It will be fine. You both have done it before."

"I forgot her name before." Pete was not at all comforted. Miles only managed to snicker at him, but said little else. He regarded the other man who was perhaps the closest thing Pete had to a best mate in his topsy-turvy life. "Thanks for standing with me, by the way."

"You're welcome," Miles replied, sanguinely, adjusting his tie and moving towards the door. "After all, someone had to make sure you show up sober. Come along."

The ceremony itself was standard, Pete supposed. The last time either had done this hadn't been in a church. Jackie had insisted for reasons she wouldn't explain, ahd he'd given in. Frankly, he couldn't have cared if a monkey in a vicar's outfit was doing the duties, his eyes were only for his bride. From the moment she had entered the far doors, escorted by a very debonair and proud Mickey, he had forgotten to breath. It might as well have been twenty-five years before, now with Jackie in a proper bridal gown, more sleek and demure than she'd have managed decades before, but certainly looking far more radiant. Even Rose, who stood with her mother resplendent in her own, elegant blush-colored gown couldn't stop her brilliant grin, tears in her eyes as she watched her parents at long last reunited officially. Pete even managed to get her names right this time, a fleeting image of the Doctor coming to mind as he did, carefully reciting each to him, the strange alien who had made all of this possible.

Jackie had chosen only the poshest of private dining rooms to hold their wedding breakfast, and had demanded that formality give way to a celebration. Music played as their wedding guests mingled, noshing on elegant food, and dancing with abandon on the floor, Jackie leading it all. That she was over two months pregnant didn't seem to stop her as she led a conga line that circled around, Rose and Mickey right behind. Pete had wisely decided to stay out of that fracas, chuckling at the madness, champagne in hand.

"Happiest I've seen you in ages." Andy's deep, sonorous voice was jovial as he sidled up next to Pete. "Happiest I've seen her. When's the blessed event, again?"

"January." A period of time that seemed improbably quick to Pete as he considered. "Jackie's hoping for a Christmas baby."

"Our David was one," Andy nodded towards where Harry stood smiling on the edge of the dance floor, watching Jackie alongside a tall, handsome young man with Harry's looks and Andy's formally dark hair. "Just got home from his work abroad, you know, surgeon with one of those NGOs."

"Glad he could be here," Pete replied, remembering a young David Berkeley in knee shorts with no front teeth, running blithely across the garden of his parents' estate with the other children of Vitex board members. "How in the hell did he grow up?"

"They do that, you know, when you keep feeding and watering them," Andy quipped, pride evident as he watched his son eyeing the fun on the floor. "Must feel that way with Rose too, I imagine?"

Pete wished he could say yes. Honestly, she had entered into his life fully formed. She watched the young woman, giggling madly as she held onto her mother, Mickey snickering and muttering something into her ear. It was the brightest he had seen her in months, really, and it warmed Pete's heart to see it.

He tried to ignore the lurking image of the Doctor that seeped to mind.

"She's not much younger than David, is she," Andy ever so casually wondered, pulling from a scotch he knew Harry would scold him over if she got wind of it.

"Rose is just a bit younger." On paper, she was only a few months younger at twenty-five, but in reality she was just over twenty, and in so many ways still acted like it.

"Just thinking she's a very lovely woman," Andy continued, with the air of someone being purposely obvious in his casualness. "And, David isn't seeing anyone at the moment."

"Trying to fix up my daughter and your son," Pete eyed his old friend, who only laughed at his mild irritation.

"If I didn't, you know Harry and Jackie would. Might as well before they get to it."

To his surprise, Pete found himself gritting his teeth in mild consternation. "Rose is her own woman, and she certainly isn't a toy to play with and mash together with whoever is convenient."

Far from being insulted by Pete's sudden show of fatherly protectiveness, Andy only laughed at him. "And look who is rushing to protect his daughter." He clapped a heavy hand on Pete's shoulder, shaking the champagne flute in his hand. "You know, you needn't fear on this fatherhood thing, Pete, you seem to be doing it just fine."

Pete flushed, despite grumbling. "Rose is old enough to know her mind. She's not the one I worry about."

"I know. Damn, I remember when Harry told me she was expecting. Thought I'd muck it up from the start. Wonder he ever made it out decent at all, not puffed up full of himself."

Pete glanced at Andy's son. He was a good lad, that was for certain. Despite having grown up wealthy, he had a head on his shoulders and dreams of doing something good in the world. "You know, I missed all of Rose's growing up. She's turned out amazing, despite it all. I don't want to miss this one, though. I never got to see her having first steps, or hear her first words, or see when she got medals in tumbling. She's amazing, brilliant despite me not being there. What if me being in the picture this time turns it all for the worst? I mean, honestly, most of Rose's life, Jacks and I weren't fit to be parents."

At least not his first Jackie hadn't been.

"Time changes things. And you and Jackie are different people now." Andy nodded towards his wife, stopping on the floor as the music ended, spinning giddily around as she hugged her daughter. "I wouldn't worry overmuch about it, Peter."

Pete wished he had half the confidence Andy had.

"So, I heard an interesting tidbit of news." Andy shifted subjects, eyeing Pete with sudden seriousness. "Seems there's been a large buy up of Vitex shares on the market."

Pete wanted to roll his eyes and point out it was his wedding renewal party, he didn't feel like talking shop. But Andy wouldn't bring it up over champagne and scotch at this event unless it was important. "Yeah? Someone on the move then?"

"Private company holding, it looks like, but you know me better than that. Of course I had my people doing some snooping as to who is doing it."

"And?"

"Seems Jeremy Peck has been hanging about Evelyn Harris for a reason."

It certainly would explain a lot, Pete mused. "That would break Evie's heart, I'm sure."

"Evie doesn't have a heart," Andy muttered, downing the last of his scotch. "I believe Peck's making a run for the board. Not the first time he's done something like this, Pete. He's taken over several companies like this. It's his usual strategy."

"And you think he wants to make a run at Vitex?"

"He could do," Andy replied, paunchy face pucked in a frown. "Question is, are you wanting to fight it?"

Pete at least had the grace not to act surprised by Andy's question. "A hostile take over, you mean?"

"Everyone knows you've been less than occupied with Vitex for a while. You up and sold to Lumic in the first place, and when you got it back you promptly left it in the hands of the board and the CEO."

There was no denying that, and Pete did feel a niggle of guilt at his friends reproachful look. "Different interests then and now."

"No one saying you are wrong, but there is a reason Evie is as loud as she is. Annoying she might be, but she does have a point. You've left Vitex on its own. And many are asking if you are as interested in it anymore."

Pete grimaced, scowling as he watched the dance floor. The music had ended, and now Jackie had moved off with Mickey, who tugged her over to a table, while Rose and Jake took to dancing together amongst the crowd to a song Pete hadn't heard in years. He didn't want to think about Vitex today, not this day. The truth was, he hadn't wanted to think about Vitex in a long time. Pete couldn't honestly say when the last time he was invested in the company that made his name was. Since before Lumic entered his life, that was for sure. He had been, at one time, early on when they giving it a go. But Torchwood had run so much of the show for him in those early days, that Pete found himself sort of floating around without a direction, ending up being much more of a face man than the person driving Vitex. Much like his first marriage, he had found himself floating along in the company, going with the motions and doing what was expected without truly being invested in it.

What a blithering sod he'd been, he sighed regretfully. So much of his life sort of spinning without caring or truly doing anything. Now, however, was his second chance, at a lot of things. A second chance at his marriage with the woman he had always loved, a second chance at making a go at something in his career that could really mean something, and a second chance at being a father. Maybe this time, he wouldn't cock it up.

"It's my party, Andy," he finally said, firmly tabling any further discussion on plans and his companies. "Let's chat more when I get back from Bermuda, yeah?"

Andy at least conceded the point. "Don't tell Harry I talked shop at the wedding, old chap, she'll never let me live it down."

"I won't tell her about the scotch, either," Pete grinned, patting his friend's beefy shoulder and wandering off to find his bride.

He found Jackie at one of the tables just off to the side, happily ensconced with Mickey's grandmother, Rita Anne. Pete had met the elderly woman on a few occasions, most of which had been spent convincing her that he was indeed the real Pete Tyler, the one from the adverts and the drink, helped in no way by her blindness and the fact that she was half convinced that "Ricky" was fooling her for a laugh. But she seemed to take to Jackie well enough, he noticed, as the two sat and chattered as if they were old friends, which in Jackie's world, they were until Rita Anne untimely death.

"Pete, love," Jackie called as he neared, her smile as brilliant as Rose's as he he stood beside where she sat and wrapped an arm around her. "Rita Mae remembers me from the old days in the neighborhood!"

He knew Jackie was framing it carefully. In this world, Jackie Tyler hadn't lived on the estates in twenty-five years. "That's right? Wow, that was a long time ago."

"Used to send my girlfriends to Jackie years ago, always did their hair right." Rita Mae nodded firmly, her sightless eyes hidden behind her perpetual sunglasses. "You remember my daughter-in-law, Sandra? Ricky's mother?"

"I do," Jackie replied simply.

"Well, you know she remarried after my good-for-nothing boy left her. She left for Jamaica, left Ricky here so he wouldn't have to leave. And we've been there ever since."

"The old neighborhood," Jackie sighed, and Pete could hear more than a hint of sad fondness in her voice. "Days I wish we were still there."

"Oh no, Mrs. Tyler, you don't," Rita Anne hissed, shaking her head sadly. "It's not like back in our day, yeah? Got a gate now, guards there, curfews. I'm right glad for Ricky, he is a good boy and looks in on me. It's sometimes scary for an old, blind woman like me."

"Not Mrs. Tyler, Rita, Jackie's good enough for me," she corrected, taking the woman's hand. "And why don't you move out?"

"Where is someone like me going to go," Rita Anne shrugged. "A pension don't go far in London now a days. Rick, he tries to help, you know, but he's young. Has to make money for himself."

"You should let your grandson help you, if he wants," Jackie admonished, though Pete knew it wasn't any good. Mickey had been trying to get Rita Anne out of her old house for years without much success. There was too much pride in her, and he could see as she lifted her chin ever so slightly that the argument wouldn't change.

"Ricky says that too. But he's got to see to himself. I manage just fine."

Pete had a feeling, however, Jackie wasn't going to let this one go. She glanced up at him, the decision clearly already made up for her. Pete could only smile at his stubborn wife and her big heart.

"Rita," she began slowly. "You know, Pete and I are expecting a baby. First one since Rose, you know, and when we had her we were just poor kids. Couldn't raise her ourselves, that's why we sent her to family." The lie was so familiar now, it almost sounded convincing.

"Anyway, with the baby coming and all, I could use help at home. Getting all set up and things. And, we could have you come stay with us, if you like. Sort of as your wages. You come and live at the house, with us, and help me get all sorted out?"

It was a brilliant idea, and Pete was only mildly surprised it was Jackie's. Still, he could see the pride and reservation warring in Rita Anne's expression. "I'm not one who takes charity. I'm not in it for hand outs."

"And no one says you are," Jackie immediately cut in. "Let's face it, my memory is half-gone and I'm still putting my life together again, and now I'm having a baby. That's scary to anyone!"

"This is true," Rita Anne ruminated, her defenses beginning to crumble somewhat. "You know, can't give this one up if you don't want to deal with it."

"No, I can't," Jackie murmured, confident she had won the argument. "If you'd like, I can have Ricky and Jake move you in while we are on holiday?"

"Those two, might break something," she groused mildly, as Jackie threw her arms around the older woman. "But only if it isn't a trouble for you!"

"How is it a trouble when I'm asking," Jackie protested, pulling away and grinning up at Pete. "What do you think?"

"What's another person at a house that big," Pete replied, secretly pleased and proud of Jackie in equal measure. "Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on Rose and the lot while we are away."

"That Rose, she's a good girl," Rita Anne chided softly. "Keeps my Ricky in line!"

"Yeah, she's good at that," Jackie replied, eyeing her daughter, who had just finished her turn with Jake. After the frantic pace of the previous music, a slow melody began, allowing for a much needed breather on the floor. Pete reached down for Jackie's hand.

"I think I need a dance with my wife, if you don't mind, Rita Mae."

"Not at all," she chuckled, as Jackie rose, threading through the tables with Pete as they stepped onto the floor.

"Last time we did this, I got sick all over someone," Jackie flushed as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Did you take your morning sickness pill today?"

"First thing, so no puking on anyone. Besides, that horrid Evelyn isn't here, I might just puke on her just because."

Pete barked a laugh as they spun in a lazy circle, along with several other couples now. "Did this make you happy?"

"Yeah," she hummed, eyes shining as she looked up at him. "I know, it was silly, wanting all this."

"It wasn't silly. Kind of sweet, actually, wanting to marry me again."

"You think?" She ducked her head against his chest. "I never stopped loving you, Pete. Why I never settled on anyone else, I think. Oh, I had excuses, but that's what it all really came down to. I just couldn't imagine anyone else to spend the rest of my life with."

It took several long moments, and perhaps a hard blink of his eyes before Pete could manage words again. "Yeah, me either. Guess it's kind of nice to know that no matter what universe we are in, it's always you and me, right?"

"Yeah," she sighed, happy. "Makes all those years of being alone sort of worth it."

"If this is what I got as reward, okay." He chuckled, tightening his embrace. "You, Rose, now a baby. Guess I lucked out after all."

"Guess we both did." She looked up again, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips just as the music faded. Their quiet moment, however, was at an end, as some hip-hop beat began, making Mickey howl with excitement, and the younger set rush to the floor.

"Our cue as old fogies to leave?" He took Jackie's arm, guiding her through the bodies, as he made his way to Harry and her son on the edge of the dance floor. The other woman immediately wrapped Jackie in a warm hug, as Pete took David's hand in a shy greeting.

"You look amazing, darling, it was all so beautiful." Harry cut knowing eyes at Pete. "You romantic, you. Never knew that about you."

"I'm full of surprises, Harry, old girl," Pete teased. "Jackie, I don't know if you remember young David or not?"

Jackie was so used to faking lost memory she did it by rote now at days. "I really don't. I'm sorry, David."

He smiled charmingly, taking Jackie's hand. "It's all right, I was mostly a nuisance anyway."

"I doubt that," Jackie grinned. Pete could already see her sizing up his friend's' son and mentally linking him with her daughter. "You weren't at the party the other week?"

"No, David's been off overseas. Working with an NGO," Harry supplied with obvious pride.

"I worked as a surgeon with a group whose been providing free healthcare to developing nations," he clarified. "Just got back the other week from Africa."

"A doctor," Jackie cooed with approval, as Pete tried hard not to roll his eyes. "So you back now for a bit, or you going overseas again?"

"Here to stay, actually. Just got a new job in London, as a matter of fact."

"Good job, you," Pete enthused. "What hospital will you be at?"

"Oh, not a hospital," David clarified. "Actually, I am switching to surgical research. I want to help take the things I learned and apply them to new technologies in the hopes of bettering the work we do out there in the field."

"A university then?"

"No, in fact. I have been accepted at a research group, Torchwood Institute. You know it, right, they do all the reports and studies that come out?"

The genuine smile he'd had on his face froze, as shock made the bottom of his stomach fall right to the floor.

_Oh, bloody hell._


	8. Chapter 8

"Please tell me you are somewhere close to finishing development on that bloody engine," Pete growled, tossing his briefcase onto his desk, spinning to face Alicia Ninaji with desperate hopefulness.

"Well, if you would like the thing to work without exploding, then no," she replied sanguinely, arching a dark eyebrow at her boss as he threw himself like a two-year-old into his chair. Beside her, Miles watched the display with just as much bemusement.

"A long flight, sir?" He looked as if he were trying hard not to laugh outright at Pete, but only just.

"Never, ever get on a zeppelin with a pregnant woman, it is bloody hell." The nearly twenty-four hour flight had been punctuated by Jackie's miserable trips to wretch fitfully in the loo, motion sickness and morning sickness combining to make her so ill, Pete had wondered if he needed to call for a doctor. "Didn't help that we just missed a hurricane coming back."

"But the trip was nice, otherwise," Doctor Ninaji wondered conversationally.

"Brilliant. Jacks loved it." Two weeks of sunshine and perfect weather had left Jackie browned and Pete pinked, but both had been ridiculously happy. After the months of adjustments to a new life filled with paparazzi and speculation, to be able to retire to an island where the two of them could just be themselves, free of Torchwood, Vitex, the tabs, and everything else, had been just the ticket for them both. Pete couldn't remember the last time he'd been so relaxed...or happy.

"So, I am gone for three weeks what with weddings and trips, and so far the building hasn't managed to burned down. How are things?"

Ninaji spoke first. "The research on your engine is going on apace. The physics behind it, while complicated, aren't outside of our own capabilities. In basic, it's doable."

"And I am sensing a 'but' in this conversation somewhere."

"What you want it to do and how fast you want to do it is another matter." She glanced sideways at Miles. "There is technology to make this safer and could speed up the development process greatly. However, it's not our technology to use."

Pete shrugged, opening his briefcase to pull out his tablet and things he needed for the day before setting it on the cabinet behind him. "So, we use purloined, alien technology all of the time. That's how we got this stuff."

"That's not what I mean, sir," she clarified. "I mean the technology we would like to use is Altarian. We would need their permission to use it."

Pete finally saw the snag. "And they aren't willing to let us use it? I thought the Altarian's liked us!"

This appeared to be Miles' cue, as he stepped in. "The Altarians do like us. They've been some of our staunchest allies and the one race we've had the longest and most consistent contact with. They are, in actually, very pleased to see us taking this giant step into inter-space travel."

"But," Pete prompted, already knowing he wasn't going to like any of this very much.

"The Altarians are the lead planet in the "League of One Hundred", which frankly is more like one thousand planets. The name is a bit of a misnomer. They are the wealthiest and most powerful, with a colony base which gives them a lot of political sway. And they are one of the lead members of the Shadow Proclamation."

And there, the other shoe dropped.

"Bloody hell," Pete sighed, scrubbing at his face, the relaxation of his Bermuda vacation seeping quickly out of his bones. "Let me guess, they don't want to work with us until I cough up on the Shadow Proclamation agreement?"

"Not, exactly, no," Miles qualified. "The Altarians agree with you, in principle, the Earth isn't quite ready to jump in, both feet, into the new galactic community. But, they do believe it has to happen sooner rather than later."

"And they are suggesting...what?"

"A compromise. They will send a researcher, who happens to know a thing or two on aerospace dynamics, to assist on your jet engine project. In turn, she will act as an independent observer, to report back to the Shadow Proclamation her findings on where the Earth is in terms of entering into intergalactic relations and how to best facilitate that process."

"So, she's a spy?" Pete snapped, not liking this one bit.

"I wouldn't go that far, sir," Miles cautioned, a hint of an edge in his voice. That wasn't a term he used lightly, not with his background, and Pete regretted it as soon as he said it.

"Fine, not a spy, but she's nosing in our affairs."

"That's what ambassadors do," Miles offered blandly. "Of course, we could just tell the Altarians, the Shadow Proclamation, and her to all sod off if you want."

"But then we will be set behind on the project, which costs more money," Ninaji cut in pointedly. "And while I am sure we could find others who would be willing to offer us the technology we want, it would come at a price we may not be willing, personally or ethically, to pay."

Why did this have to be the first thing on his docket straight from coming back?

"Which would you rather have, sir," Ninaji asked quietly as he scrubbed his face. "An alien poking around our labs or a few months and a product to give to your investors, or to do more stumping for your cause and hope we are able to finagle what we want from other means."

She was right, of course, and he hated it. "Fine. Tell the Altarians we are willing to deal. But I want to meet this ambassador directly, I don't want her setting out in the great wide world with all the enthusiasm of a four-year-old meeting Father Christmas."

"I have already planned for that." Miles held up a dossier. Of course he had. Pete took it and flipped it open.

"Her name is Mira Oiztay, and she's an engineer who has been working with the Shadow Proclamation for some time."

"And how did she luck out on this detail?"

"Her father is the current head of the Altarian government. He pulled strings."

"Brilliant, not just an ambassador, but a politician's kid. 'Cause that won't start a war if something happens to her."

"I think she wouldn't be allowed if she couldn't handle herself," Miles charged back, despite Pete's doubtful glower. "She will arrive three weeks, which is about the time it will take to get from her home here. I've decided to to assign her to Simmonds' detail."

He glanced up at his Field Director in surprise. "Rose's detail?"

"You know I'm right in this. Most of my field agents have very limited contact with aliens, and when they do, it's mostly as a police force. Don't step on the grass, don't piss on the ancient monument. Our ambassador is here for more than that, and Rose and she would fit in well together."

Pete sighed. He was right. And this was the type of situation he had wanted for Rose, to prove herself, and to prove to him that this could work. "Right. I think Jake, Rose, and Mickey will be perfect for it. You've briefed them?"

"They are already on it, just on the off chance you said yes."

"Right," Pete hissed, feeling a headache already coming on. "Well, you got your way, Alicia, an alien here to get the project off the ground. And finally, someone else is dealing with the Shadow Proclamation, Miles."

"For now," he countered.

"Well, lets hope this works, on both fronts." Pete glanced at them both. "I have yet to speak with Andy, but it looks as if I might have an investor group well in hand. We should be able to move you all into a new facility soon, and create a headquarters for our new PJR Enterprises."

"PJR," Ninaji quizzed him, briefly, before it clicked. "You are naming our new company after your family?"

"Wouldn't be a company without those two," Pete replied, smiling softly at the thought. Without Jackie and Rose, he'd not have this opportunity. And none of that could happen without the Doctor.

For the millionth time, he briefly wondered about the alien in the other universe, and wondered what he was doing.

"It is sweet," she admitted, gathering her briefing notes. "If a bit cheesy."

"You saying my name is cheesy?"

"Yeah, I am. But then, I am sure we can get some advert agency somewhere to change it all up." She laughed at his mild outrage. "I am working to get your a report this week to present to the investors. Once we get this ambassador on board, I am hoping things will move quickly.

"I do to," he mused. He couldn't help himself. The idea of travel, faster than sound travel, thrilled him. If they did this, he could say that for once, he honestly left something good and decent in this universe.

As Dr. Ninaji saw herself out, he turned to Miles, who watched him with his ever inscrutable gaze. "What do you want?"

"I'd like a pay rise and less taxes, but I would settle on asking how you are doing?"

He paused. "All right for now. Will I not be?"

"Depends." He handed another dossier over. "David Berkeley, you asked on him."

"Yes," Pete sighed, flipping it open to glance at the utilitarian, Torchwood ID photograph of the young man he'd known since he was a boy. It was the devil's own luck. He'd kept his associations with Torchwood a secret all this time. Outside of the organization only his family and the highest leaders in government knew, and Harriet Jones wasn't about to talk. He'd always felt a hint of guilt not having confessed it to Andy, not even once. But what was he to say? That Vitex was all a lie, a front to spy on the likes of Andrew Berkeley and John Lumic. Somehow he didn't think even his forgiving friend would take it well.

"There's not much there, honestly. Boy's squeaky clean. Wish I'd gotten A-levels like that in university."

"Don't start lying to me, now, Miles, I know the grades you got at uni." Pete glanced through the files. Most of it all was familiar to him from the many times he sat at the Berkeley's table, the many stories Andy spoke of over the years. David was a fine student, had some talent in rugby, not so much cricket or crew, he had been a prefect in his school before going to Oxford and taking to medicine like a duck to water. Where he got it from neither of his parents knew as no Berkeley in their memory had ever so much as cared for the sciences, but they had been quietly proud all the same.

"So why Torchwood, eh? He'd been working doing charity stuff abroad."

"We approached him, it seems. Berkeley's got talent, there is no denying it, and a heart for those less fortunate. He's the type of person we want working for us, sir."

"I know, but he's also the son of a friend of mine who I've lied to for twenty years," Pete muttered, closing the file with a snap. "Now, he is going to know. There's no way around it."

"We all agree to the same vow of silence when we come to work here, you know, not just you. Everyone at Torchwood, from the receptionist to the field agents knows something of what we do here, and all are sworn to keep it secret. We are a research facility, independent of any government, nothing more or less."

"You think that will make him feel any better. Brilliant new job, aliens exist and we've been contacting them for years, but you can't tell mum and dad about it, and by the way, I've been lying about it the whole time."

Miles could only offer a small smile of sympathy. "You know, this would all be fixed once we break it to the world there are aliens and they want to play nice with us."

Pete only glared at him. Of course it would, he knew it would, but theory and practice didn't always necessarily align.

"David is a good boy. He's not going to cause waves. Still, I should maybe talk to him at some point. Clear the air."

"You could do that if you like, sir, but why?"

He wanted to say because his nagging guilt was gnawing at him. "I owe the boy that much. And besides, I want to check in on him, make sure he's doing well."

Miles only shrugged. "He's in medical research, if you'd like to find him. He started there last week."

"Right," Pete muttered, glancing out into the gray mist outside and wishing heartly he was back on a sunny beach. "Back to the mines for you, then?"

"The gang from Cardiff are here to discuss that rift, so I want to check reports. And there is another breach in one of our American facilities again, the one in Utah. Seems someone's been playing a little hacky with their servers."

"Don't bored teenagers have anything else better to do with their time?" He rose, knowing he had to get David over with. "Anything else."

It was a rare occasion when Miles demurred. Often, he said exactly what was on his mind, whether you wanted to hear it or not. But there was some hesitancy as he stood to fall into step with Pete. "I don't want to raise any alarms just yet. I spoke to Dr. Suresh this morning, just to check in."

That alone made Pete pause, his hand on his office door. "And?"

"He's still monitoring the activity, the signal I told you about. While there is no appreciable opening of dimensions, the signal has gotten stronger."

"Cybermen? Daleks?"

"We don't know. Honestly, we can't read it. None of our instrument are picking up on the signal they are using, whoever they are. So far, there hasn't been much of a response."

Pete grimaced. "So you don't think it's someone from the other side, trying to get through?"

"Could simply be someone from the other side trying to send a message."

Pete could think of one person who might be mad enough to try that. "The Doctor?"

"Maybe?" Miles frown deepened over his thick frames. "Sir, we will monitor it. But...what do you want me to tell Rose?"

Pete considered for a long moment. He thought of Rose, just weeks ago at their wedding, laughing, smiling, happy. He hadn't seen her like that in...months. "Nothing for now."

Miles looked mildly surprised. "Sir, if it is the Doctor, what if he's trying to reach her?"

"And if it isn't? She'd be crushed!" Pete remembered all too well her heartbroken sobs. He didn't want to ever hear her cry like that again. "Just...leave her for now. Do you know where the signal is directed at?"

"We are reading it somewhere in the North Sea, but that's all."

"Keep it off of her radar for now. I'll take the hit for it."

Miles clearly didn't agree, but accepted Pete's directive all the same. "I'll do my best."

"Thanks." Worry pulled at him as he wandered to the elevator, Miles close behind. "She'll be busy with this ambassador anyway, right?"

"Of course." He didn't need to look at his Assistant Director to feel his disapproval.

"Right, well, off to piss on someone else's day," Pete grumbled as the elevator let him off, closing on Miles once again as he descended to the bottom levels of Torchwood Tower. It was a massive building, reaching tall above the London sky, and down far below the water level of the Thames. Most of the field operations work occurred in the basement levels, hidden from public view, but the regular research labs were scattered throughout the different floors of the building, sectioned off into departments that specialized in things such as product development and social research. David Berkeley's office was in Human Medical Research, a large division that studied everything from the human genome to cancer cells, things that would change the world eventually. As awe inspiring as that sort of work was, the receptionist still stared, open mouthed at Pete as he wandered into their waiting area, smiling cheerily at her.

"Any idea where David Berkeley is?"

She was round faced and pudgy, with watery eyes behind cat-like glasses, that blinked at him as if he was speaking some foreign language. He sighed.

"Dr. David Berkeley, new surgeon. Might be researching something having to do with that."

"Right," she whispered, swallowing hard as she clicked her bejewelled nails across a tablet screen. "Dr. Berkeley is down the right corridor, three halls down. Turn left there, and his office will be at the very end."

"Thank you," he smiled again, as the woman blinked again. As he walked away, he could distinctly hear her whisper, perhaps on her phone, that the director had just wandered through looking for the hottie.

Ahhh, office gossip.

Young David's office was indeed at the far end of the third hall, far from most everything, which he supposed was because he was the newest. It had a thick door and a small square of a window, but it had his name and title on it. He tapped once against it and opened the heavy door.

"Just a mo', just reading through these emails." David didn't even look up from his tablet as he frowned down at his desk.

"You are more studious than I am. Haven't even bothered looking through mine, yet."

David's eyes shot up, bright blue and surprised as he pushed himself up. "Errr….Pete...I mean...Director."

Pete's title stuttered out of the other man with a strangled sort of perfunctory. He tried not to sigh. "Pete's fine here, when it's just the two of us."

"Two of us...yes." David's handsome features schooled themselves in placid neutrality. "Are you here on a social visit, or because you visit all the new recruits?"

"No, just you." Pete gestured to the chair on the other side of the young man's desk. "Mind if I sit?"

"Of course." David closed out whatever he was working on on his tablet. That he was Harry's son was without a doubt, David was always painfully polite, but he had all the sharp frankness that marked Andy as a wily businessman.

"So, how has your first weeks at Torchwood been?" Might as well cut to the chase, Pete reasoned.

"Well enough," the young man shrugged, fiddling with a pen laying off to the side. "All a big change from the NGO work, you know. Paperwork is still the same."

"Worse even. Try getting your ID processed after you've lost it." Pete threw out a winning smile, hoping the joke would break the cool ice that formed between them. It didn't.

"So, settled with your office and your team? What will you be working on, then?"

"Heart research," David replied. "Specifically working on genetic defects in prenatal gestation, but perhaps also in chronic effects in later life. One of the things I worked on in my field work previously was heart conditions amongst newborns in underdeveloped countries."

"Sounds like good work. The kind of work we like doing here." Pete was already flailing with this conversation, and he knew it.

"It is," David conceded. "Of course, not the only stuff you do here, right?"

"Ehhh...no." Pete sighed. They'd come to the crux of the matter. "They told you why Torchwood was founded, right?"

"Something about Queen Victoria and aliens?"

Pete nodded, at least feeling more in his depth here. "When the old Queen first came into contact with an alien creature at the Torchwood Estate, she was attacked and bitten, infecting her with a virus that she then transmitted to most of her family remaining in Britain. Realizing what happened, she formed the Torchwood Institute in the hopes of researching a cure. But also, she hoped that we would serve as a means of research and study, a point of contact with alien races, so that things like this would never happen again, all with the strictest secrecy of course. Even old Queen Vic didn't see this playing over well in the press if it got out that there were creatures from beyond this world messing about."

"But that's why she's gave up the crown and declared Britain a republic?" David had heard the same history stories as a schoolboy that Pete had.

"Yes. However, Torchwood operates outside of the Republic, outside of all human governments, really. We have to, else nothing would be done. Imagine having to negotiate with the United Nations every time an alien wanted to come here on a holiday?"

"And does that happen a lot, then? Aliens on holiday," David wondered in quiet dubiousness.

"We are a regular Majorca, planet Earth is," Pete muttered ruefully. "Most don't know it."

"And do you ever plan on telling them?"

Ahh, and there was the rub. "Our mandate is to keep it secret, David. At least for now, we keep that. But there have been, in recent years, discussions about changing that policy."

"Just not enough so I can even tell my Mum and Dad what I do, right?" While he was all politeness, Pete could hear the quiet resentfulness in the young man.

"You could tell them exactly what you told me," Pete offered. "Nothing there is top secret."

That only seemed to mollify David somewhat. "How did you get into this? Everyone thinks you are some guy selling soda to the masses, not running a group like Torchwood? Does Dad even know what you are up to?"

Guilt niggled at him, but Pete managed to meet unspoken accusation levelly. "I was brought in twenty-five years ago by Yvonne Hartmann. You'd not know her, she died the night the Cybermen tried to take over. My purpose was simple, to be groomed by Torchwood as a spy, to walk amongst the circles of the powerful and elite and watch what they were doing, specifically regarding alien technology. There's a lot of it that gets around, much of it is dangerous. Lumic is a case in point."

As he had expected, the news floored David, blue eyes wide as he regarded the man who he'd grown up with all his life. "You mean, you never invented Vitex then? That wasn't you?"

"Well, part of it was me," Pete mildly defended himself, rubbing his neck as it broke out in a nervous sweat. "I had been working for the bloke who had invented it. Tasted awful, wasn't selling. I had big ideas for it, and he was willing to sell up if I got the capital together. But, I was a poor kid from the estates, and nothing I tried to get the money together ever seemed to work. So, one day, Yvonne shows up, offers me the chance of a lifetime. Torchwood would fund my enterprise, even work with me on product development. All I had to do was go where they wanted, talk to who they wanted, and send in reports. Simple as that. Here I was, in my thirties, older than you even, trying to make ends meet with a wife, and someone was handing me a blank check. It was a dream come true. So, I took it."

"And it was all a lie." David's polite facade dropped, finally, as he threw himself up from his desk, pacing the area with hands on his hips. "My Dad, he threw in with you at the start. He's build a career off you, he's backed you. Vitex was his life, and you never told him?"

"You plan on telling him who is backing your research?" It was a low blow, Pete knew it, but it caught the young man short. He stopped his pacing long enough to glower at Pete from the far side of the room. "Vitex is legitimate, that was never a lie. And I was grateful the day your father landed at Vitex. I didn't have half a clue what I was doing, and he showed up and made it all right. Nothing was illegal about it, nothing untoward, and you and your mother got a pretty damn good life out of it. You should be proud of the work your father did. If you wanted to be pissed at me for lying, fine. But don't be pissed at me because I gave your father Vitex. Put you through medical school, anyway."

This seemed to quell the young man's righteous indignation a little. "What else haven't you told my Mum and Dad? Was the Lumic merger part of Torchwood?"

"Yes," Pete admitted freely. "Torchwood knew he was working on a secret project using technology given to him. We didn't know what it was. My job was to find it out."

Only, he hadn't found it out fast enough. The guilt for his failures back then wasn't completely gone, and he found himself staring at his hands as he rubbed them nervously together. "Obviously, we all know what happened with that. I was in the middle of setting up a resistance to his network when it all went down. He was dying, so he went with his plan. It happened so fast...obviously you know the rest of what happened."

The young man nodded, running a hand through his short hair. "Was in my medical studies then. Knew some of the families who were affected by it. Saw some of the families abroad who were. I thought it was just a madman let loose with technology, like in the movies."

"It was, but we gave it to him," Pete muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Torchwood had a policy for years of giving technology they didn't feel was useful to private investors for a small percentage of profit to help fund the Institute. None of this research or hiding aliens business comes cheap. No one thought anything of it till Lumic. They all thought they were helping the human race get better."

"Instead, they were letting people loose with technology they shouldn't and hoping they didn't muck it up," David muttered, bitterly. "Do you know the people I met abroad? The poor families I saw in places like Central America? So many of them being taken advantage by a system that sought its own benefit over everyone else? I thought Torchwood was different."

"It is," Pete protested, though even that sounded weak to his own ears. "We've tried to use what we've gained to improve people's lives, not to ruin them. Don't let one bad apple spoil the whole barrel."

"And what about your new project? Your jet engine?" David's sardonic glare was pointed, cutting Pete to the quick. "Dad's been telling me all about it. This new technology, supposed to be the next big thing. That something you ripped off some unwitting alien race somewhere, now using it to your benefit?"

"No," he corrected, but only just. "No, the technology for that came from humans. But, yeah, we may be adding to it with alien tech, to make it safer."

None of this seemed to be helping his cause with the young David, who simply threw himself back in his chair moodily, glaring up at the smooth ceiling above. He was silent for long moments, before finally sighing mightily. "I thought I was coming here to do something good and make a difference. Now, I feel like I'm just living a lie."

Pete didn't really know what to say to do that. "Everything in life is about secrets and lies, David. The trick is knowing how to do the most good with what you have. I'm not here trying to take over the world. I just want to make it a better place than what I left it."

David didn't look as if he believed him. "Tell me honest, Pete. Did Jackie really survive that night of the Cybermen, or did she die? Or was it all just a ploy, like Evelyn Harris says?"

Pete hadn't expected that question at all. The other man knew he had blindsided him, his gaze narrowing suspiciously, as Pete desperately tried to come up with a lie.

Instead, it was the truth that came out.

"Yeah, she did. She died. I saw her in a metal body." Even the memory of it made his throat tighten, the mechanical voice uttering his name as Rose screamed denials beside him. "She died that night."

"And the woman I saw you with at your wedding a few weeks ago?"

"She's Jackie Tyler, all right, but she's not the same woman." Pete replied, finding himself unable to stop the flood of truth as it came pouring out. "The reason we beat the Cybermen that night was because of an alien, a very ancient, very powerful alien from another universe. With him came my daughter...or she was my daughter in that universe. Rose."

Sad but true, for all the strange things David Berkeley had heard that week, this was perhaps the most mad. "So, on top of there being aliens, there's other dimensions now too we muck around in?"

"No, not really. Only the Doctor could, and even that can't happen now." Pete waived it off, knowing it all sounded insane, and not caring at the moment. "But yeah, Jackie and Rose are my wife and daughter from another world, one where I had died, but Rose had lived. We never had a daughter here in this world. Anyway, it's all a crazy story, long and the short is she's here, Rose is here, we are a family, and I'll be damned if anything takes that away. Is that clear?"

There was an implicit threat there, one he knew the other man understood. And he knew David was offended by why he said it. "I'm not out to spill your secrets."

"Good," Pete replied, realizing his tone was far more dangerous than he intended it to be. "Look, David, I know this is all mental. You signed up for this thinking you were joining a research institute and find out there are aliens and other dimensions, and you are sworn to the highest levels of secrecy. And maybe I've disappointed you, keeping this secret for so long. But the jet engine, it's not there just to make me money, I enlisted your father in it because we want to do something good in this world, to leave a mark that isn't just about soda pop and slick marketing. To help make a real difference. And as for the rest, for now, we are just trying to keep the world safe, people safe, from something they don't understand."

"Who are you to get to make that judgement for everyone else," David mulishly challenged. Pete sighed. He could almost hear Miles laughing at him in that "I told you so" sort of way.

"Right now, David, I'm the only one able to make that judgement for everyone else." And he felt the full weight of that in the moment, as his shoulders bowed physically under the imaginary pressure. "Anyway, I'll leave you to your work. You can be pissed at me all you want, just...know we are trying to do good work here."

"Yeah," David snapped, clearly done with the conversation. "Don't worry, I won't rat your secret out to Mum and Dad. I figure that's something you'll want to do, someday."

Pete didn't miss the barb there. "Right. Thanks for talking, yeah?"

"Of course, Director," he replied formally, nodding in bare civility as Pete made his way out of the office door.

Well, Pete mused, his steps ringing on the clean, sparse tile, that could have gone better.


	9. Chapter 9

David Berkeley aside, life had fallen into smooth, comforting pattern for Pete with an alarming ease that he wouldn't have even dreamed of a year before. The manor house, which had been empty and unused after with the horrific memories of that long ago night, was now filled to the brim with people, voices, and laughter. Mickey had moved his gran in while he and Jackie had been abroad. Rita Ann now held gentle tyranny over their household, fussing over Jackie and Rose alike, while scolding her grandson "Ricky" in equal turns, all from the comfort of a stool in the large, industrial kitchen that became the focal point for family activity. If she noticed that they referred to her grandson by a different name, she chose to ignore it, basking in the comfort of having a housekeeper about to see to her needs.

For Jackie's part, the familiar faces of Mickey and Rita made her happy enough. For the first time in months she seemed to be in her element, carefree in a way Pete didn't think he had ever seen her. Not that she wasn't taking to her new life as the wife of the fabulously rich and famous founder of Vitex either, if her shopping trips with Rita Ann were any measure. She had even reached out to Harriet Berkeley as the only other woman she had met of late, and found that despite the other woman's impeccable breeding and elegance, Harry was more of a kindred spirit than Jackie supposed. The three women could be found having tea on the back patio, gossiping as if they were back in the old neighborhood, laughing at something uproariously in a fashion that usually made Pete want to cringe and hide in his study with Mickey, watching a match and drinking a beer.

Life seemed to be settling into happy, familiar sorts of ways for everyone.

Everyone, except, for Rose.

She faked it well enough, however, Pete would give her that. She fell into their new family dynamic with the same sort of ease Rose related to everyone with. But he could see the truth hiding just on the edges of her disarming smile and familiar manner. Her laughter with Mickey was just a little too forced, her nods and smiles as her mother poured over baby catalogues just a tad distant. And every so often, he would catch her staring off into nothing, as if caught up in something only she could see.

It was, of course, one thing when he noticed it. Being so new to Rose's life, he hadn't wanted to cross any sacred borders with her. But Jackie noticed. Like she usually did where her only daughter was concerned, she of course fretted about it, wondering aloud as she flipped through her tablet offerings while lying in bed beside him.

"You think she's maybe overdoing it at work?"

Pete only barely glanced up from the briefing memo he had in hand. "Who?"

"Rose," Jackie wondered, clicking off her screen and setting it aside. "I mean, she's sort of thrown herself full bore into this Torchwood. She says Miles' has got her on the detail of that new ambassador coming in, and she, Jake, and Mickey have been working overtime on it."

"It's a big chance," he replied, words swimming slightly on the page under his glasses. He yawned. "Maybe it's the nerves of it all. This is her first grown up job, you know. No folding hoodies and jeans here."

"Rose wouldn't be bothered by that." Jackie side, smoothing her nightshirt over her only slightly rounded tummy. "I'm worried about her, you know. All of this, I mean. She's had to let go of so much."

By so much, Pete knew what Jackie meant.

"Maybe the two of you can go off on a bit of a girl's weekend or something. Help get her mind off. She's with the boys all the time, and maybe just having her mum around will cheer her up."

"Maybe." Jackie's sigh turned into a jaw-cracking yawn as she snuggled into the pillows, pulling the duvet up over herself. "You going to sleep soon?"

"Yeah," he smiled, watching as she cuddled in. The pregnancy was making her more tired earlier, and she often drifted off before he did of an evening. He leaned over to press a kiss against her platinum head, but already she was snoring softly as he chuckled, attempting to turn back to his own work. Truth be told, he too was tired after a long day. And his stamina wasn't what it used to be. But, if he could knock out another chapter, he could snuggle up next to his wife, and…

He hadn't noticed that he'd even fallen asleep until the pounding sounded at their bedroom door. Her jerked, his reading glasses askew on his nose as he rubbed at his face. The lamp on the nightstand was still on, and the memo he'd been reading had slipped gracelessly to the floor. Still, the pounding sounded against the heavy oak.

"Whatizhit?" Jackie mumbled, her face scrunched with sleep and confusion as she sat up, blinking into the dim light.

"Just a minute," Pete called, grabbing his dressing gown to wrap around his t-shirt and pajamas, swallowing hard his heart which had lodged itself somewhere firmly in his throat. With little grace or dignity, he threw open door, a white faced Rose standing there with her fist prepared to pound on it again.

"Rose!" He blearily glanced behind her to see if there was perhaps a mob of raving lunatics threatening her very life. Seeing only a quiet, befuddled Mickey instead, he blinked at her by way of demanding an explanation.

"Can you guys meet me downstairs, please?"

"What time is it," Pete muttered, rubbing hard at his eyes, looking futilely at the watch on his wrist.

"Three AM," Mickey muttered, shuffling towards the stairs. "I'll go make coffee."

Rose only shrugged by way of ascent, looking up at Pete pleadingly. "It's important. Can you wake Mum?"

"I'm awake," she called, coming up behind Pete, all motherly concern. "You all right?"

"I…" She began, stopping, her gaze distant as she cocked her head towards something that Pete couldn't hear. "I'll explain it more in a bit, okay?"

"Okay," Jackie assured her, reaching hands smooth back Rose's hair from her face. Rose only smiled, tears in her eyes, as she too turned to the stairs. Pete stood with Jackie, watching her for long moments.

"What's it all about," he wondered, Jackie's arms wrapping tightly about her middle.

"Even odds, it's the Doctor all right. She's got that look in her eye," Jackie whispered, sadly.

Half-an-hour later they sat in the family room, Mickey having stoked up the fireplace against the cool of the middle of the night, for all that it was nearly the end of summer. Rose sat, curled on the far side, waiting as Jackie bustled about the kitchen pouring coffee, and Mickey helped her carry it out. It wasn't till they were all settled that Rose even began to speak.

"I had a dream last night," she murmured, sipping from the mug Mickey gave her, before settling himself. "I've been...getting this sense of something for a couple weeks now. This sort of funny feeling, you know. Not all the time, just...sometimes, out of the blue, maybe at work, maybe sitting at dinner, like something I've forgotten, or someone calling my name."

Beside Pete, Jackie's fingers curled tightly around the mug of warm, milky liquid, holding it still without even bringing it to her lips. He wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, though her death grip on the ceramic continued.

"Anyway, so last night I went to bed. And that's when I heard him." Rose's warm, brown eyes met her mother's directly. Pete could feel Jackie shuddered beneath his fingers.

"It was a dream, love," she began, but Rose shook her golden head vehemently.

"Not this it wasn't," she insisted, glancing towards Mickey. "The Doctor, he's telepathic, all his people were. The TARDIS, the reason we could understand the aliens was because it got into our heads and made us understand what they were saying."

Mickey only grimaced when Pete and Jackie looked towards him for confirmation. "It's true. Saw him get into the French mistress' head, Madam Pompadour."

"You think he's getting into your head," Jackie asked, mildly alarmed.

"I heard him, Mum," Rose replied firmly. "No mistake, it was him."

Miles' warning about the signal from the other dimension came to the fore. "What's he saying?"

Rose took a long moment to sip from her mug before answering. "At first, it was just my name. Then he wanted me to follow his voice."

"To where," Pete urged, but Rose could only shrug her shoulders in her dressing gown, laughing lightly in disbelief.

"Would you believe he just wants me to follow the sound of his voice?"

Pete could, and judging from Jackie's indelicate snort, so could she. "Still mad, even from a different universe."

"So, what, he wants you to go back with him?" Mickey voiced what neither Pete nor Jackie had yet, his expression trying to be carefully neutral, but failing utterly in the attempt.

"I don't know," she answered softly, looking at all three of them. "I have to go, you know. I can't just...it's been months." Her voice broke, sparkling as they tracked down the side of her cheek. "He always promised he wouldn't leave me, like he did with Sarah Jane. He promised, and I know that if he's made it this far, he's done something mad to do it."

Mickey knew what she was speaking of, apparently, as he rose, setting his mug down with the sort of resolve he had for missions with Jake. "Right, well if you need to go to him, I'm going with you."

Rose's brilliant smile was cut short at Jackie's brief, screeching outburst. "Not like I'd let you go by yourself, you know!" She spun around to Pete, jaw set in that way he knew would mean he couldn't argue her out of it, not that he even intended to. "You going to make it happen, then?"

As if he could ever stop the likes of Jackie, Rose, and Mickey if they set their mind to it. "I got the SUV. We can hop in and see where we end up."

Rose could only blink at him, wondering. "You don't think this sounds mad, then?"

"No, it sounds mad, but honestly, it's the Doctor, what doesn't where he's concerned? My life has been chaos since the moment he stepped into it." He rose, setting aside his barely touched coffee. "Well, it's been a few months since I did something completely barking. A bit overdue. Do you know what direction?"

Without batting an eye, Rose pointed out the window. West.

"Any particular spot?"

"No idea." She shook her head. "And I don't think he can hear me on his end, not enough to get a response, anyway."

"Man flies through time and space, you'd think he'd figure this out in a trice," Jackie sighed, getting up herself. "If we are planning a mad adventure to God knows where, we better pack. Think the housekeeper has some leftovers in there, we can take those. And Mickey, you'll need to let Rita know we got called on an emergency."

"Let me pack first, then I'll wake her," Mickey replied, gathering the coffee things. Pete turned to his daughter, watching it all with slight bemusement.

"I thought you'd all think I was crazy and try to talk me out of it."

Pete could only shrug. "Since when has your mum and Mickey talked out out of anything."

"True," she admitted ruefully. "If this is him, Pete..." She couldn't finish. Such hope shined in her eyes. And yet, there was fear too. What if it wasn't him? What if she was making it all up?

Of course, if it was him, what did that mean for the daughter he just gained? What did it mean for he and Jackie?

"I'll go up and pack," she murmured, oblivious to the turn of Pete's thoughts as she rushed out the door and up the stairs. Mickey wasn't far behind, hissing a whisper to her as he heard the two make their way down the hall. Jackie, however, still remained in the kitchen. He could hear the distant sound of her opening the fridge and setting things on the marble counter. He followed it, finding his wife half buried inside the stainless steel, industrial sized fridge, muttering darkly to herself.

"The peanut butter is in the door, love," he teased lightly. Jackie nearly cracked her head on a shelf, spinning so fast it made him worry for her safety.

"Was looking for the jar of artichoke antipasta. You haven't seen it?"

Pete simply fixed his darling wife with the look that simply asked if he would be the type to even know what an artichoke was. Jackie only rolled her eyes, slamming the door as she opened containers scattered around her. She was upset, he could tell that much, you didn't need to be a psychologist to understand the frantic fluttering between bowls of pasta salad and curry chicken salad was more her simply distracting herself from the worry at hand. What if this was the Doctor?

"Do you have an ice chest," she wondered, stacking several containers together in apparent satisfaction of what she found.

"Yeah, in the pantry." He went to fetch it, bringing it to the one counter with a roll of paper towels to give it a good wipe down, not even recalling the last time it had been used. He glanced carefully at his wife, who ignored him as she began to rummage through the freezer now.

"You know, Jacks," he hedged, gently. "If this is the Doctor, what this means, right?"

Jackie pulled away from the freezer, baggies of ice in her hand. "We don't even know if it is him. Could be her imagination, you know. When she was just a tyke, she'd get nightmares, convinced they were real, and no amount of me trying to say otherwise would sway her."

"Jackie," Pete sighed, taking the bags from her and placing them carefully in the ice chest. "You ever know Rose to just tell you she's hearing voices?"

She wouldn't look at him. Instead, she simply reached for a stack of containers and handed it to him. "She's had a lot to think on at work."

"And yet you are following her to God knows where."

"She's my little girl, Pete!" Her voice cracked and broke, shattering like eyes as she turned away, but not before he caught the hot tears brimming to life. It wasn't totally unexpected, this reaction. Still, it hit him in the gut with the force of all of his uncertainty.

"If it's the Doctor, really and truly, he'll take her away," Jackie sobbed softly.

Pete wanted to comfort her, but found himself rooted to the spot, a container of curry chicken salad in hand. "And you, Jackie? What about you? You willing to leave this?" He didn't voice the one question he wanted to ask. Was she willing to leave him?

"She's my baby!" She turned to face him brokenly. "She's all I've ever had."

"Not anymore," he replied, far more coldly than he meant to. His gut churned, as he set the chicken in the ice chest. "You have a husband, Jackie. And you have another baby on the way. Our baby."

"I'm thrilled about that," she cried, as if he'd accused her of not wanting it at all. "But this baby won't replace her. Not my Rose."

"No," he agreed, torn between aggravation and heartache. "But, Jackie, Rose is a grown woman. She's the same age you were when you'd up and married me, remember. You were already out on your own."

She sniffed, rubbing the back of her hand across her nose. "I was a lot more mature than her."

Pete could only snort loudly, glad at least he didn't guffaw outright in her face. "You mean to tell me that you, who'd not had a more serious job than turning out hair and makeup when you were twenty, had more maturity than your daughter who has traveled through time and space and saved two entire universes many times over, and who rates a high level diplomacy job at Torchwood because of it?"

"I had to grieve a dead husband and raise a daughter on my own at her age. Wasn't easy, let me tell you."

That cut quick. Pete sighed, knowing her barb was deliberate. "Jacks, this isn't a competition. Yeah, you had a rough go at it. And you did it, by yourself. Rose gets that from you, you know."

Jackie's only response was to nod, shoulders hunching as tears began to roll down fast and furious down her cheeks. "I don't want to lose her."

Pete didn't know what to say to that. Honestly, what could he? She was a mother to a child that was not simply leaving the neighborhood, but could be leaving the universe all together. If Rose left with the Doctor, she'd be an entire dimension away, somewhere just on the other side of a wall of reality, just as final as death was. And for Jackie, whose entire world had centered on her only daughter for so long, the very idea seemed untenable.

"I don't want to lose her, either," Pete finally choked, leaning heavily against the counter. Even as he managed it, he knew the words were true. He hadn't raised her, he hadn't even met her till that strange night all those years ago, but somehow, mysteriously, she had become his daughter. Not some stranger's daughter, but his own, with his outgoing personality and dreams of changing the world. He hadn't wanted her that night when she revealed to him who she was. But he did want her now, desperately so.

"We don't have to do this," Jackie offered, a trifle meekly, knowing already it was a fool's request.

"Yeah, we do." He pushed himself up, crossing to where his crying wife stood. "Because we love her. Because she loves him. And if he's managed this, it's because he loves her. She's a grown woman, Jacks. And that's the thing with kids, you have to learn to let them go, let them be who they were always meant to be. Rose is amazing. You and I both know that. More than I could have ever hoped for in a kid you and I had together."

At that, Jackie finally graced him with a small smile despite the tears. "Yeah, not so bad at making babies, are we?"

His own chuckle stopped just short of lascivious. "I don't think that making them was ever the problem, but turning them out, that's been all you so far."

"This time, it won't be just me."

That was all the quiet assurance Pete needed.

By the time Rose and Mickey had made it back downstairs, rucksacks slung over their shoulders, they had finished and the kitchen, and Jackie had made her way upstairs to wash her face of all traces of her grief and to put on clothes. Pete followed to do the same, throwing on comfortable clothes, glancing at his tablet speculatively. He could call Torchwood and trace the signal, but instead he pocketed the phone, snagging last minute items like keys and his wallet, and bounding down the steps as he heard Jackie speaking loudly at some end of the house, Rose and MIckey both curled, tiredly, on couches below.

"Who's she talking to?"

"The housekeeper." Rose yawned, glancing at Mickey. "You tell your Gran?"

"Yeah, told her we had something come up at work, an emergency." Mickey shrugged, well used to white truths and half lies with grandmother by now. "So, what, we just going to drive?"

"That's the idea." Rose looked to Pete who held up his keys and tossed them to her.

"Go pack up, while your mum finishes up, yeah?" He left them to that chore as he wandered into the kitchen to snag the ice chest. Jackie stood by the counter, tightening several thermos' with a look of apology to the unseen person on the other end.

"Yeah, I know, sudden and all, but we are hoping everything should be fine." She paused as their housekeeper spoke on the other end. "Yeah, just let Rita Ann know you are here, check in on her, yeah. Sure. I will do. Ta!"

She clicked off looking supremely guilty. "Told her that the folks who raised Rose had a sudden illness in the family, we had to see them. Feels weird, telling lies like that."

"No one said it was easy," he acknowledged with easy familiarity of the practice. "Ready to do this?"

"No," she sighed, gathering the thermos' and putting them in a bag before snagging her purse nearby. "But I keep telling myself it's for Rose."

With a wide, sudden gesture he swept her up, purse, thermoses, and all, holding her tight as he kissed her hard. Stunned eyes met his own as he smiled sadly at her. "You are an amazing mother. Never forget that."

Tears threatened but didn't fall as she managed a wobbly smile. "You're an idiot, you know."

"I do, love," he chuckled, taking her hand as they walked out the door. "And whatever happens, I'm here."

She tightened her fingers in his.


	10. Chapter 10

The shore was cold and gray in the waning afternoon light, the spray from the ocean dampening everything, even their moods. It had taken more than a day and a half to get there, driving first to mainland Europe before taking the ferry from Denmark to Norway. Despite frequent stops and a kip at a motor in for the exhausted and motion sick Jackie, they stood there on the dull stretch of sand, overlooking the North Sea.

"What's it called again," Rose whispered, pulling her purple jumper out from under her leather jacket.

"Miles said it is Darlig Ulv Stranden." Pete stumbled on the unfamiliar words.

"Sounds like a cheerful place," Mickey snorted, kicking at a stone in the damp sand with his trainer, leaning heavily against the Jeep.

"Odd name if you ask me," Pete supplied, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. "Something about sick wolves, poor wolves, bad wolves...Miles apparently speaks Norwegian, how that got through his files without me knowing, I don't know, but he's been holding out on me."

"Bad wolves?" Rose stuttered the words, disbelief paling her face. "Did...did you say 'bad wolves'?"

"Well, more or less. I guess in English it's Bad Wolves Bay or something." Pete didn't like the wild look in Rose's eye, no more than Jackie beside him did.

"Or Bad Wolf Bay!" She turned to grin triumphantly at a suddenly ill looking Mickey. "You know what that means."

Before the boy could answer, Jackie gasped quietly beside him, tugging Rose's sleeve. Out in the distance of the dull expanse, a wavering image stood. Even from this distance, Pete could see the familiar brown suit and mad hair..

Rose simply stared.

"Go to him," Jackie quietly urged her, nudging the girl across the sand towards where the strange alien seemed to stand. As if in a trance, Rose trudged along, arms wrapped around herself as she approached. Pete took Jackie's hand and held tight, watching her - his daughter - as she stopped.

"He looks so faint," Jackie mused. "Like Princess Leia in _Star Wars, _when she calls for help."

Thankfully, that was a movie that had some sort of reference in this world. Many of Jackie's pop culture references did not. "Maybe it's just a message of some sort, a signal."

"Likely has the TARDIS sending it," Mickey added, frowning worriedly. "Guess this means he can't get to this side without destroying everything. Which means Rose is staying here."

"Yeah," Pete conceded, gruffly.

"Yeah," Jackie managed on a choked whisper. "He's going to leave her. Just like that, he's going to walk away."

"At least he came to say goodbye," Mickey replied, sorrowfully. "More than he's done for anyone else. I guess this means..."

Mickey drifted off without finishing his thought. The Doctor now solidified, but Rose only pulled away after he did. They stood, watching whatever private conversation was being had. That it wasn't going well, he could see, the hunch of Rose's shoulders, the watery glance she threw over her shoulder. He could feel Jackie long to rush over and make it better, to fix it for her little girl, like she always did. But Pete held her firm. Rose needed to do this on her own.

The Doctor only spared them a singular glance, then, as if only just noticing them. Perhaps he did at that, or maybe he was reserving his attentions for the one person in this world he needed to see. Even from where they stood, Pete could sense the heartbreak in the ancient being, the sadness, and the quiet pride for the young woman in front of him. And love. That, Pete would have needed to be blind not to see. It was no sooner than that thought even occurred to him then the solid image that had been the only link to the Doctor disappeared.

Without another breath, Pete let go of Jackie's hand, as she immediately rushed over to her slowly crumbling daughter. Even over the crash of waves pounding the cliffs, he could hear the keens of Rose, sobbing once again as if her heart would break. A sound he had so thoroughly hoped he would never have to hear again.

"He's gone," Mickey sighed, more in sadness than disbelief. "He's not coming back."

"I know," Pete murmured. "He said he would close the gap between the universes for good, no more getting through. I suppose this was his last chance to say goodbye. Though, he could have stayed here for all that. Been with Rose."

"No, he couldn't." Mickey stood up, pushing himself off the Jeep. "TARDIS doesn't recognize this universe, it wouldn't run. And that's all he's got. He's the last of his kind. That's it. And he's going to outlive Rose, and he's going to outlive me, and then where will he go? He knew that. Sarah Jane knew that. Rose...I think she just never cared. But he did."

"You think he left her on this side on purpose?"

"No, not really. I think that she got trapped here. I'm just saying that the worst thing in the universe is to sit and watch everything you love die. And he's seen it more times over than most of us. Perhaps he was trying to give Rose her best chance, knowing she was happy somewhere."

Mickey acted slightly gormless most of the time, but there were many moments, like this one, when Pete saw through to the sensitive, insightful young man he really was. He had matured in the time he had known him. "She's going to need you."

"Nah," Mickey shook his head. "She's not needed me, not ever, really, but especially not since the Doctor wandered into her shop and blew it to kingdom come. Ever since, I've just been along for the ride."

"You've made the most of it," Pete pointed out. "And she will still need you. As a friend, if nothing else."

"She's going to need all of us." He nodded to the two women crossing the sands again, Rose's head buried deep in her mother's shoulder. Jackie hummed and cooed, as if her daughter were still an infant.

"Hush, love, let's get you inside, all right." She glanced at the pair of them, with Mickey hopping to it to open the door and help Rose inside. Limply, the girl curled in on herself, as Jackie looked on sadly.

"It's been a long couple of days," Pete offered, pulling out his phone, looking briefly through a list of hotels. "Bergen's not far. Let's find a nice place to stay, get settled in for the night."

The other two only gave mute reply as Mickey crawled in beside Rose and Jackie in the passenger's seat by Pete. Rose said nothing as she sobbed quietly to herself. Pete started the engine, and without a single glance backwards left Bad Wolf Bay, wondering what in the world that name meant to Rose.

Hours later, he sat by the window of their hotel, overlooking the picturesque city of Bergen, it's lights glittering like stars around the reflection of a fjord below. Phone calls were placed as Jackie settled Rose into her room. Mickey had tiredly gone to his own quarters for the evening without so much as a by-your-leave, and Pete had left him to it. He'd gone to the room he'd reserved for he and Jackie, though he had no idea how much time, if any, his wife would actually spend in it. Almost numbly he had settled into the routine of checking his mail for reports. The only one that caught his eye was from Dr. Singh. He reported that the anomalous activity along the rift between the worlds had abruptly stopped, and there was no more sign of any further cracks or breaks. The breech was effectively sealed for good.

Somehow, oddly, this didn't make Pete feel any better.

He'd drifted into a fitful doze watching the news when Jackie finally made her way in, looking dead on her feet. She fell into the bed, stripping off just enough clothing to be comfortable, curling up beside Pete wordlessly as she pressed herself into his side.

"She going to be okay?"

"Don't know. She hasn't spoken much, really." They'd been through this before with Rose, when they had first arrived months ago. Jackie had sat with her then.

"She didn't tell you what he said?"

"Not so much, but I can guess." She didn't sound angry. She only sounded sad. "If he wasn't going to come back for her, why did he bother at all? After all of this, he's gone and broke her heart again. Just when she was starting to get better."

Rose hadn't been getting better, though. She'd been moving along, slowly, but he knew as well as Jackie that there was a part of her that still clung to the hope that one day, somehow, the TARDIS would impossibly arrive to whisk her into the stars again. And the fact it never would, ever again, made his heart ache for his daughter.

"Maybe he was saying goodbye so she could move on, you know." He'd considered it on the long drive from the beach to Bergen. "Maybe his hope is that she will move on, live out her life, and not waste away hoping he will come back in to take her away."

"Letting her grow up," Jackie whispered tiredly into his shoulder. The words caught him, the very words he'd told Jackie just the day before.

"What'd you say?" Pete cracked an eye to look at her.

"Letting her grow up," Jackie repeated, face turning to look at him. "You were right, you know. I didn't want to admit it, but you were. She's a grown woman, got to make her own decisions. And I won't always be there. And God knows what she was up to with the Doctor, I don't know even half of it, and she came out just fine. I just...have to be okay with letting her be herself."

He knew how hard that had been for her to say.

"And you know," she continued. "I watched himself out there on the beach today. Looking like his heart was breaking. Well, I guess hearts, he's got two of them. But he knew the truth. There was no coming back, not without destroying everything. And he had to let her go. A man who's lost everything, giving up even that. And it made me feel a little selfish. Look at me, I got to spend nineteen years with her, and I was crying over letting her go, and he…"

She trailed off, as dampness began to seep through his undershirt. Without a word, he pulled her up enough to kiss her lightly and settle her forehead against his, wiping tears away with the flat of his thumb. "She's staying, Jackie."

"But not because she wants to. And there was a part of me that was so happy to have her here forever, but I wonder if it was worth it to see her hurting like that."

"I know." He too had felt that guilty happiness that his daughter was staying. He'd only just got her, after all, and to lose her so soon seemed unfair. And then he thought of the Doctor standing on that lonely, gray beach. And he felt somewhat ashamed.

"You know, I used to hate him," Jackie murmured in the small space between them. "I hated him for taking her away from me. I hated that he was amazing and wonderful, that he could show her things I never could, and of course she'd want him more than staying around with me, who'd never done anything with herself."

"Do you still hate him?"

"No. I don't know. I don't hate him, even if I wish he hadn't. If he didn't, I wouldn't have you. I just feel...sad for him. Because I know how he feels, that being alone. It's how I felt when Rose was gone. And I had people, the neighborhood, the pub, but he's got nothing. No one left. And to see him stand there on that beach and say goodbye. He was letting her go, so she could be herself. Suppose I wish I was half that brave."

"I wish I was half that brave too." Slowly, he brushed a kiss across her nose, then rolled her down to lay on the mattress more comfortably once more. "She's amazing, Jacks. She will do fine."

They were silent for long moments, the quiet hum of the television on low the only sound in the room.

"Sometimes getting exactly what you want isn't as wonderful as you thought it would be," Jackie finally breathed, burrowing into pillows with a sleepy yawn.

"Doesn't make it any less worth it," Pete qualified, finding himself just as drowsy.

"I suppose not."

Tiredly, he rolled, gently turning Jackie so he could curl himself up behind her, placing his palm on the gentle swell of her belly. "I think it is pretty worth it."

Her soft snore was the only response she gave. Smiling softly, he kissed her hair gently and slipped into sleep himself.


End file.
